


The Transcending Heart

by Soul_Narrative



Category: Arc the Lad: Twilight of the Spirits
Genre: Adult Content, Darc and Kharg fraternal bonding, F/M, First Time, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Psychological Trauma, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2019-07-21 02:48:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16150961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soul_Narrative/pseuds/Soul_Narrative
Summary: Darc hates his body. What he looks like never mattered to Lilia at all. Slow burn Darc/Lilia. Follows Darc's canonical storyline through the end of the game.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *Rubs palms together* Oh my god, I am so excited to write this. I’m thrilled to see there’s still people who remember this game and (recent!) Arc the Lad stories on here. 
> 
> Excuse me while I fangirl for a moment. I’ve been wanting to write Darc/Lilia FOREVER. They’re really something special. I just love them. They’re too freaking adorable together, and as someone who doesn’t even really care much for romance stories or ships in general - canon or otherwise - this is my absolute most favorite pairing EVER. I can’t *not* ship them. And it’s basically canon. It becomes more and more obvious the more you play the game.
> 
> And can I just say - I fucking love Darc. I’m probably preaching to the choir here, but holy shit is he a great character. He is one of my favorite fictional characters of all time, and it’s a shame this game is as criminally underrated and unknown as it is because he has a lot of potential. He’s one of the most developed and psychologically deep characters I’ve ever encountered - in any medium. He has a sort of depth and unapologetic realism rarely seen in video game characters. He’s just so complex, and he’s one of the best examples of a true antihero I can think of. Cattle Call did a phenomenal job with him. 
> 
> I also think Lilia deserves a mention. I don’t understand the hatred toward her in this fandom. I really like her. Lilia possesses a very quiet, powerful strength which is sadly often overlooked. She’s also the voice of reason throughout the game, and there’s a lot of wisdom and truth in her words. I love how she is with Darc. She’s really sweet and patient and kind to him but she doesn’t take any shit from him either. 
> 
> Okay, maybe I should shut up now and go over the important stuff?
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Arc the Lad or any characters, locations, or dialogue utilized herein, nor am I making any money from this work. Arc the Lad is the property of Cattle Call and Sony Computer Entertainment. 
> 
> MAIN PAIRING: Darc/Lilia 
> 
> SIDE PAIRING: Very mild implied Kharg/Paulette, but this will only be mentioned in passing.
> 
> RATING: M (a few chapters will be Explicit)
> 
> WARNINGS: For Darc’s past, obviously. Lots of heavy angst, violence, blood, gore, graphic descriptions of wounds, some language, adult content, het, nudity, sexual situations, racist attitudes, canon character death, and mentions of PTSD-related behaviors. I’m going to try my best to keep everyone in character, but some mild OOC-ness may occur.
> 
> SPOILERS: For pretty much the entire game.
> 
> This is a VERY daunting project both in scale and in depth. I love this pairing so much and I really don’t know if I’m skilled enough to do them justice, but I’m going to try. This story follows Darc’s chapters, beginning shortly after Darc and Lilia first meet in Asheeda Forest and continues through the end of the game. In other words - this is a long haul fanfiction, probably the longest I’ve ever attempted to write. It’s a slow burn romance, after all.
> 
> I became very inspired to write this story when I replayed the game last Christmas for the first time in many years. Something that drew my attention which I hadn’t thought about before was just how much Darc seems to really hate his body, and how it’s a constant source of mental anguish for him. So that will be a major recurring theme throughout this story, as well as Darc’s psychological trauma and how it affects his relationship with Lilia. 
> 
> This story will also contain scenes and dialogue from the game. I’ve chosen to do so because it provides very reliable reference points for the story timeline, and there are specific scenes I want to add to and explore in more detail. 
> 
> I admit I’m not all that great at writing long battle scenes, so most that occur will be summarized or omitted entirely. This is Darc and Lilia’s story, so unless there’s a battle that has consequences for their relationship, I’m probably not going to spend much time on it. This is not meant to be a novelization of the game, but rather an effort to tell a side of the story we only gleaned here and there, which I believe deserves to be told.
> 
> The point of view will switch between Darc and Lilia depending on the scene. Since they spend a good deal of time apart during the game, this seemed like the best decision. Some chapters will be told entirely from Darc’s perspective, some entirely from Lilia’s, and some will be a mix of both.
> 
> There will also be some exploration of Darc and Kharg’s fraternal relationship (no slash) and friendships between other characters. 
> 
> Thank you and happy reading!

He was obviously some sort of leader.

Lilia could tell, simply by observing the way he carried himself as he led them out of the darkening forest, and from how his companion obeyed his orders without question. She could almost feel the Lupine glowering behind her, still angered by the presence of her company. He had remained silent ever since Darc demanded she be left alone, and Lilia wasn’t entirely certain the Lupine wouldn’t pull a fast one should the opportunity present itself, but she sensed there was some measure of respect – and possibly fear – which prevented him from acting against Darc’s command.

The shadows were lengthening quickly as they stumbled through the thick undergrowth. It was getting late, dusk pressing closely around them in the dark green haze. Lilia could glimpse small patches of violet-hued sky among the mossy boughs overhead. She felt very much like a captive, despite her agreement to accompany Darc to wherever he was taking them.

 _Not like he offered me any real choice_ , she thought as she contemplated the intimidating figure some ten paces ahead of her, hacking vines and low-hanging branches out of his way.

Then again, she had been hopelessly lost in the mazelike forest when he’d found her. There was no way she would have ever made it to Cathena before nightfall. She was frightened, yes, but no less than she would have been facing a night alone in the wilderness, hiding from Dilzweld and all manner of savage monsters. So perhaps it was a stroke of luck, or merely bad timing, which had allowed for their chance meeting by the springs. Either way, she now had hundreds of questions to occupy her mind, none of which had any clear answers.

Her eyes came to rest on the birthmark emblazoned like a tattoo on Darc’s arm, still visible against his bronze complexion in the gloom. Kharg had a similar birthmark, in roughly the same place, but Lilia was unable to recall its exact appearance. She had noticed, too, Darc’s habit of touching it when he seemed troubled, but maybe that wasn’t such an unusual behavior.

Here and there, Darc shared other eerie similarities with Kharg. There was no denying that. And yet, it was just so _odd_. Not to mention, any connection between the two was improbable.

Darc was a Deimos, for one.

…Or at least half-Deimos. Lilia studied him curiously again. He was rather fierce-looking, with his horns and scales and aggressive demeanor, but there had also been some intrinsic kindness in his eyes no matter how much he’d threatened her at Crossell Springs. He hadn’t taken her Light Stone from her, after all, but whether that was out of mercy or self-interest, she could only guess.

And then there was the Wind Stone.

Lilia mulled over the Light Spirit’s latest message. Three times it had appeared to her now, each visit providing similar guidance. Surely Darc carried the other half of the Wind Stone. But where had he gained possession of it? And how did it come to be broken in the first place?

Lilia watched her feet, picking her way over thick, gnarled tree roots and thorny creepers. Surely…surely Darc hadn’t come across Kharg and the others in the short time she had been separated from them and taken the Wind Stone from him? Although, she mused, that was not an unreasonable possibility…

She frowned at her decision to leave Big Owl on her own, and something like guilt passed like a shadow over her soul. She could only hope that Kharg and his friends would find their way home safely and pray the Spirits protect them.

She recalled her conversation with Kharg in the Castle Ruins the night before. From what she could gather, Lady Nafia had given the Wind Stone to him, and it had already been broken when he’d received it. Had Lady Nafia, then, ever been in possession of the other half?  She had mentioned that it once belonged to her late husband’s people.

Perhaps…and yet it didn’t quite make sense because Kharg was human, but perhaps Lady Nafia had once loved a –

Lilia suddenly collided with something very solid. She took a few steps back, holding her nose where it had smashed against the unyielding surface of Darc’s armor. Through the tears welling in her eyes, she saw him turn his scowl on her.

" _Oww_ …I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to –”

“Hey, human!”

Lilia startled and looked up to see the Lupine towering over her, baring his fangs in a vicious snarl.

“Watch where you’re going!”

“Y-yes, I’m sorry – ”

“I told you if you get in my way, I’ll kill you! Do it again and you’re – ”

“Volk. That’s enough.”

Lilia could hear the warning in Darc’s voice. She glanced nervously in his direction, but his glare had shifted from her to his Lupine companion.

“We rest here tonight. Now go get some firewood. We’ll make for Orcoth tomorrow.”

Volk’s one good eye lingered on Lilia a moment longer in disgust before he turned back into the trees. “Yes, my alpha...”

Lilia listened to the Lupine traipsing off through the underbrush. They had finally reached the edge of the forest, remaining just within the cover of the dense foliage. A great emerald field stretched out before them, giving rise to the jagged grey spine of a mountain range on the horizon. The sky was vast and velvety blue in the twilight, a few bright stars already visible in the cloudless ether, sparkling like white jewels.

Darc said nothing as he went over to a large tree and settled against its ancient, knotted trunk, wincing visibly. Lilia followed him, concerned by the grimace that flickered over his face.

“I’m sorry! Did I hurt you? Maybe I should take a look at your wound – ”

Darc laid his sword next to him without looking up. “That won’t be necessary. Deimos aren’t fragile like you weakling humans.”

“Please,” she implored, moving closer. “I just want to help – ”

“I don’t need your help!” Darc snapped at her. “If you touch me, I’ll kill you!”

Lilia froze in her approach, halfway across the small clearing. She could see that he was in pain, but she wasn’t foolish enough to push her luck. Instead, she opted to sit down where she stood on the moss-covered earth, frowning at his sudden temper.

From what little she had gleaned of his personality over the past few hours, Darc seemed to possess an extremely volatile disposition. He was aggressive, boorish, and quick to anger, and he gave orders with the self-possessed assurance of one used to being obeyed. No matter how much her compassionate nature stirred her to help him, she was still keenly aware that one wrong move could very well be her last.

She made herself busy spreading out her bedroll, then sat with her legs folded under her, weaving a necklace from some tiny white flowers that grew in a patch nearby. It had grown so dark that she could barely see, relying on the pale moonlight illuminating their little camp from above. The evening was pleasantly cool and quiet, except for the choir of crickets chirping gently in the forest around them.

That is, until a dull, eerie scraping sound echoed around the clearing. Lilia’s hands stilled while tying a knot in the flower stems, and she looked up to see Darc idly sharpening his sword on a flat whetstone. Her face must have expressed some horror at the ominous behavior, for when Darc met her eyes he abruptly halted and put his weapon aside.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to kill you.”

“You just told me you were going to kill me five minutes ago,” Lilia quipped.

Darc’s scowl deepened. “Are you trying to backtalk me? I don’t tolerate that from any Deimos and I sure as hell won’t tolerate it from you.”

Lilia shrugged despite the twinge of fear in her stomach and went back to weaving her necklace. “I already told you that I won’t obey you.”

Darc examined the edge of his blade but chose not to respond. Lilia ducked her head to hide the secret smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Deimos king he may be, but he wasn’t all that tough to read. Though she had no doubts that he could cause her serious harm if he really wanted to, he didn’t seem to be into random killing as she had at first expected. She knew little about Deimos, and had even less experience dealing with them, but she could tell that Darc was different. If nothing else, he seemed…fair.

A twig snapped nearby, causing Lilia to startle. Darc immediately tensed and gripped the handle of his sword, motioning for her to keep quiet. A moment later, Volk came into view, carrying a bundle of wood under one arm.

“Volk,” Darc acknowledged his companion, relaxing once again.

The Lupine dropped the firewood unceremoniously in the middle of the clearing and tossed three fish onto a flat rock.

“That’s all the food I could find. Not much else in this forest except monsters.” Volk turned to peer at Lilia, making no effort to conceal his contempt. “I assume _you_ take your fish cooked as well?”

“Yes, please,” said Lilia politely. She watched the Lupine kneel and fumble with the flint and steel for a few minutes, unable to produce more than a few sparks, before she cleared her throat and set her necklace aside.

“Here, let me help you,” she said, joining him by the pile of dry kindling. “I’ve built campfires by myself plenty of  times.”

Lilia did not miss the look that passed between the two Deimos, but she struck the flint against the flat side of the dagger all the same, and soon a tiny flame flickered and danced among the branches. She exhaled gently, coaxing the little fire to spread, adding dead leaves and twigs here and there until the wood popped and snapped cheerfully, illuminating their clearing in a sphere of warm, golden light.

Supper was a quiet affair. Lilia sat on her bedding, watching the fish cook on wooden spits over the fire while the two Deimos conversed just out of earshot. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but nothing about Darc’s body language suggested that she should be worried. The evening was quite lovely, and had she not been a prisoner in the company of Deimos in a foreign land, she would have been content to sleep beneath the jewel bright stars, lulled by the peaceful forest sounds.

Volk did not reply to her quiet gratitude when he offered her one of the fish, but there was something hesitant in the way he turned away, as if her kindness unnerved him.

Lilia picked delicately at her humble meal and tried not to stare at the Deimos while they ate. Darc, at least, seemed civilized enough, but the Lupine devoured his fish ravenously, smacking his lips before reclining on the other side of the fire and picking his fangs with one of the bones. It wasn’t long after when Darc volunteered to take the first watch, and Lilia tossed the remains of her supper in the fire before crawling under her blankets to rest.

The moon was moving in a slow arc across their velvet patch of sky. Lilia lay awake, listening to the crack of firewood and hissing embers while she watched the many stars above glow and shimmer in the darkness. Their camp was very quiet aside from Volk’s rumbling snores, and if it wasn’t for the telltale sounds of Darc shifting every now and then, she would have guessed that even he had dozed off amid their peaceful surroundings. Sleep pulled at her eyelids and she relaxed into the soft earthen floor, strangely unperturbed by the company she kept so close in proximity to herself.

“Hey, human,” Darc’s rough voice interrupted her gentle voyage toward slumber. “Tell me how you got the Light Stone.”

Lilia feigned sleep, choosing not to answer. If she didn’t know any better, she would have guessed he’d taken the first watch on purpose in order to question her alone.

“You can’t fool me,” Darc tried again. “I know you’re awake.” When she still didn’t answer, he made a frustrated noise. “Stupid, worthless human…”

“My name is Lilia,” she said without opening her eyes. “You know that. And I’m not stupid _or_ worthless, as you say.”

Darc made no reply, and Lilia relaxed once more, wondering how long she dared to play this game. Then, with something between a growl and a sigh, his voice rolled to her across the clearing again. “Lilia?”

“Yes?” she said, opening her eyes and turning to him at last.

Darc was still resting against the same tree since they’d first entered the clearing, just beyond the warm glow of the fire. Lilia could just make out his brooding scowl and the shadow of his arms crossed over his chest. With thick, gnarled roots on either side of him, he looked like some wild forest king slouched upon his throne.

“How did you get the Light Stone?”

“You’re not going to take it from me while I’m sleeping, are you?”

“Not if you tell me how it came into your possession.”

Lilia pushed herself up on her elbow. “I told you, my mother gave it to me. I don’t believe she knew it was powerful. None of us did.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Light Stone came from the little village where I was born,” she explained, watching embers from the fire ascend and disappear in the darkness. “We lived peacefully and worshipped the spirits there. The Light Stone was just a holy object, a spiritual artifact. I never knew it contained any special powers or that others would covet it.”

“I see,” Darc’s voice was contemplative. “Why do you keep it then, if you never plan to use its power?”

“It’s a keepsake,” Lilia replied. “I lost everything when my village was destroyed. It’s one of the only things I have left to remind me of home…”

She trailed off, and silence stretched between them. Lilia laid down again, curling up under the blankets so that only her head was exposed.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked at length.

“To Orcoth.”

“Orcoth?”

“Yes,” Darc said. “The city of the Orcon. I’m the leader of their tribe.”

Lilia considered this for a moment. “Oh...but you’re not an Orcon, are you?”

Darc scoffed at her question. “No, of course not.”

Lilia rolled onto her back again. She thought she could see the blue, dusty cluster of some galaxy far beyond even the dimmest of stars. “How did you become their leader, then?”

“I killed their king and claimed his title.”

“...That’s terrible.”

“That’s the Deimos way,” Darc spat, but Lilia could sense some hesitation beneath the ire. “I don’t need your petty human sympathies.”

Lilia could think of nothing to say to that. “May I sleep now?”

“I don't care. Do as you wish.”

Lilia closed her eyes. He was a puzzle, that much was certain. How long he planned to keep her in Orcoth she had no clue. She thought about Cathena, and where Dilzweld might be, and if Kharg and his friends had safely returned to Ragnoth, but her exhaustion quickly soothed away her troubled thoughts, and she drifted off beneath Darc’s watchful gaze.

 

~x~

 

The Deimos were terrifying in battle.

Lilia hid behind a rocky ledge, covering her ears against the wails of dying creatures and the awful clash of iron and steel. Darc hacked through monsters with every vicious swing of his sword, brutal and unyielding. Volk was working his way toward him from the other side of the cliff, his huge axe mowing down demons in one blow.

Lilia shut her eyes tightly. She hated it. That morning they had been fortunate, having traveled in peace across the wide meadow, but monsters hid in the rocky crags on either side of the mountain pass.

Now they had been attacked twice. Darc warned her to keep out of sight and Lilia immediately ducked behind a boulder or dead tree at the first sign of an ambush. Both times, Darc stayed close to her hiding place, waiting for the monsters to rush him before taking them out with the unfeeling, calculated accuracy of a hardened warrior. He fought with a sort of detached, carefully controlled rage, and he wasted no time on technique or finesse the way Kharg did. Darc was brute strength, but unlike his Lupine companion, he didn’t seem to take any sick pleasure in killing.

Lilia felt a heavy claw touch her shoulder, and she flinched instinctively away.

“It’s over. Come on.”

Lilia opened her eyes to see Darc walking away from her. His weapon was still drawn, but it was lowered at his side, trailing droplets of blood on the ground. Lilia tried not to look at the carnage that littered the path in front of them, or the way a huge crimson arc splattered the earth when Volk swung his axe once more before stowing it across his broad back.

She followed Darc over to where the Lupine stood, picking her way timidly around the corpses. Darc sheathed his sword just as she reached them and shielded his eyes with his human hand.

“The sun is already setting. We can still reach Orcoth by nightfall. Let’s go.”

 

~x~

 

Orcoth was unlike any city Lilia had ever seen. It appeared to be built on top of some ancient civilization. Here and there were glimpses of decaying human artifacts from the past, some reused by the Orcon for their own purposes.

Colorful Deimos were gathered around a curious type of plant illuminating the main square, listening to a brash female boasting loudly about something.

“That lying, traitorous, no-good fiend! She’ll regret what she’s done!”

Lilia jumped, startled by the Lupine’s outburst.

“Wait, Volk,” Darc said calmly. “Leave her to me.” He took a step forward, then added, “And don’t take your eyes off Lilia!”

Lilia turned her attention back to the female Orcon in the square and suddenly recognized her as the Deimos who had stabbed Darc in Asheeda Forest. Her spine prickled at the grim realization of his words.

“You...you really intend to kill her?” she said, surprising even herself by her own boldness. “If you kill everyone who disobeys you, you’ll have no one left by your side.”

Darc ignored her. Lilia watched as he descended the steps and a heated verbal exchange ensued. The female Deimos looked cowed by his presence, and after a moment he led her toward a stone passageway on the other side of the square.

Lilia ran forward without thinking. It wasn’t like she could stop Darc, like she could realistically do anything, but she couldn’t just stand there and let him kill the girl, no matter what she had done.

“Whoa, you really think it’s right for a human like you to just saunter around Orcoth like that?”

Lilia froze in her tracks as a Deimos with violet scales stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

“Sh-shall we smack her around a little before t-tossing her out?” stuttered a second one, fatter than the others.

“But...but I…” Lilia said, taken aback.

“Hmm, good thinking, Zugalo. C’mon, let’s have a chat, shall we?” the purple Orcon threatened menacingly.

Lilia tried to move away, but he lurched forward and grabbed her arm.

“How did you find your way here, huh? Are you lost? Do you know what happens to little human girls when they trespass in our territory?”

Lilia yanked her arm but the Deimos held her fast, his claws sinking painfully into her skin.

“Leave me alone!” she cried. “Stop it!”

Some of the Orcon still gathered in the square laughed at her fruitless struggle.

“ _S-stop it!_ ” mocked the fat one. “H-hey, hey Zoram, the human told us to leave her alone. She thinks she can tell us what to do. D-don’t you think that’s funny?”

“Heh,” Zoram chuckled humorlessly, leering down at her. “Why don’t you see if you can make us?”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

Darc’s unmistakable timbre barked roughly over the crowd. The assembled Deimos turned in unison and parted obligingly for their leader as he stalked into Lilia’s view, looking murderous.

“D-Darc…!” Zugalo yelped.

“What are we doing?” Zoram sneered. “We’re just about to take care of this human that’s found her way into our territory!”

“Mind your own business!” Darc snapped. “I brought Lilia here.”

The Orcon fell completely silent, stunned by his declaration.

“What?!” Zoram exclaimed, releasing his hold. Lilia stumbled backward, rubbing her arm. “You...brought that...here?”

“Listen carefully,” Darc ordered. “Until I say otherwise…harming Lilia in any way, shape, or form is strictly forbidden! Violators will be punished. Got it? Tell all the Deimos in Orcoth.”

The Orcon began mumbling half-heartedly to each other.

“B-but...letting a human girl run free in Orcoth…”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” Darc snapped.

“Y-yes, sir!” Zoram exclaimed, visibly frightened. “Of course, sir.”

Darc glanced in Lilia’s direction and for the briefest moment he met her eyes. “Now, I have something to ask this girl. Put her in the dungeon!”

The flood of relief that Lilia had felt when he’d intervened quickly vanished. She hoped that perhaps he’d had a change of heart toward her, that maybe he’d realized her humanity wasn’t a threat to him or a justification for his scorn. But those hopes were dashed when he said nothing more. In desperation, she tried to catch his eye again.

Darc turned his back to her.

“C’mon, move!” Zoram barked, and with a sinking feeling, Lilia resigned herself to be led away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is enjoyable so far! Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Lilia’s hesitant footsteps echoed loudly off the dungeon walls, magnified in the small, dark cavern.

“Come on, move it!” the guard snapped, pushing her roughly in the back. Lilia stumbled forward, splashing through the steady flow of water pouring from a grate in the wall.

The heavy cell door clanged as Zugalo pulled it open. Lilia cringed at the sound. Although she tried to appear as brave and composed as she had felt in Tatjana’s possession, her hands shook with a fine tremor. Never had she been locked up like this before, and certainly not by any Deimos.

“Hang on,” Zoram said before the guard showed her inside. The purple Orcon yanked her ortena free from where she carried it in her sash. “What manner of weapon is this, human?”

“Oh, please don’t!” Lilia said. “That’s not a weapon. It’s my ortena.”

“Or-tee-nah?” Zoram pronounced the word clumsily as he turned the carved object over in his hand. “What is it if it’s not a weapon?”

“It’s an instrument,” Lilia explained. “It makes music. Please don’t take it from me. It’s my only comfort here.”

Zoram shared a look with his companions. Zugalo shrugged.

“Heh, it makes no difference to me, human, but I don’t think Darc would be too happy with us if we let you keep it.” Zoram handed the ortena to the guard along with her other belongings before giving her a shove. “Now get in there!”

The heavy iron door slammed shut behind her.

Lilia sank down onto a rock in a corner of the cell, listening to the Orcons’ chatter as they moved away. The cell was quite empty aside from a few of those odd phosphorescent plants glowing eerily in the darkness.

The Light Stone pressed against her ribs where she had hidden it in the folds of her blouse. At least they hadn’t put her in chains, she thought with a cold shiver as she eyed the rusty manacles hanging from the ceiling. Perhaps they knew a weaponless human female would be no match for them if she tried to escape.

“I’ve locked up the human as you commanded, Darc.”

A familiar voice echoed coarsely around the chamber. “Good. You are dismissed!”

Lilia heard the Orcon climbing the steps to the exit and went to the door of her cell just as Darc emerged from the shadows.

“What happened to that Orcon girl?” she asked him through the bars. “You didn’t...kill her, did you?”

Darc stopped in front of her. He was so close that Lilia could see the crimson tint in his deep umber glare, his eyes glinting like garnets in the heavy gloom.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t kill her.”

Lilia relaxed. “Thank goodness. I knew you were different from other Deimos.” She offered him a gentle smile. “You have a kind heart. No wonder you heard the Spirit.”

Darc scowled at her words and turned away. “Hmph. What a simple, human way of thinking. Hate to disappoint you, but that’s not why I let her live! I need strong Deimos to serve me.” He glanced over his shoulder at her before adding, “To destroy you humans, that is. That’s why she’s still alive.”

Lilia frowned and leaned against the bars.

“But you protected me in the mountains! And you won’t let any Deimos harm me here. If it’s true that you’re not kind-hearted, then why do you even bother?”

Darc’s clawed hand moved to cover his birthmark briefly before he turned to her again.

“I protected you because I require your knowledge,” he said. Then, with a note of reluctance, he added, “And...because I’m indebted to you.”

“Indebted to me? Why do you say that?”

“You treated my wounds in Asheeda Forest...you may have even saved my life.”

He seemed to consider whether he wanted to elaborate or not, but then he shook his head and stepped forward again until they were eye to eye.

“But never mind that. I’d like to talk with you.”

“About what?” Lilia asked.

“Don’t play dumb!” he hissed. The luminous plants cast deep shadows over his face, making him appear even more intimidating than usual. “Tell me everything you know about the Great Spirit Stones. That’s why I brought you here.”

Lilia lowered her gaze to her feet. “I don’t know the details. My mother gave mine to me right before she died. She...she was...gone before I could ask her about it.”

“Uncanny…” he muttered, and out of the corner of her eye, Lilia saw him touch his birthmark again. “Everything is so similar…”

“Similar to what?” she prodded.

“My father gave me the Wind Stone on his deathbed, too,” he said. For a brief moment, he looked very sad. “And I didn’t get a chance to ask what it was for, either.”

“Say, Darc…” Lilia began uncertainly, looking up at him again. “Did your mother happen to be human, by any chance?”

“Not you, too!” Darc snapped. “Are you going to start taunting me for being a Deimos wannabe, too?”

Lilia frowned at his unprovoked hostility. “Calm down and just listen. I met someone named Kharg on Ragnoth. He had a Wind Stone, too, just the same as yours.”

“What?!”

“Is your Wind Stone broken in two?” she continued. “Kharg’s was. You might even be Kharg’s - ”

“Shut up! Stop! Don’t you dare continue!” Darc shouted over her, his voice echoing loudly around the chamber again. He looked so livid and terrifying that for a moment Lilia was afraid he might burst through the door and attack her for real. “I didn’t keep you alive to hear such ridiculous nonsense! I only want to know where the other three Spirit Stones are.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “And even if I knew, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. You’re planning on using the Spirits’ power to fulfill your own ambition.”

“And? What’s wrong with that?” he growled. “If you don’t want to tell me where the stones are, that’s fine with me. I’ll just leave you in here for as long as it takes.”

“You wouldn’t…!” she implored. “There’s someplace I really need to go.”

“That does seem to be a problem. Just tell me where they are.”

Lilia stepped away from the bars, considering. She really didn’t want to tell him, but what choice did she have? “All right,” she began slowly. “The Dilzweld Army has the Earth Stone.”

“Dilz...weld?” Darc repeated. “Army? What the hell is that?”

“That’s who was looking for me,” Lilia clarified. “They’re after my Light Stone.”

“What about the other two stones?” Darc asked. He seemed to have regained some measure of composure now that she was cooperating with him.

“I only know about the Earth Stone,” she replied, turning to him again. “I’m sorry.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Darc looked rather disappointed.

“Well, all right,” he said. A troubled expression clouded his features before his usual scowl returned. “One thing is for certain. If the humans want the power of the Great Spirit Stones, too...we’ll have to work faster and get them before they do.”

Lilia was quite surprised by his choice of the word _we_ , but she had a much more pressing concern at hand.

“Don’t be a fool! You heard what the Spirit said! The time of destruction is drawing near. The Dilzweld Army is gathering the Spirit Stones with an eye on world domination.” Her voice softened. “So please, let me out of here. I want to tell the World Alliance about Dilzweld’s plans.”

“Then let’s do this together! I’ll gather the stones and defeat Dilzweld myself.”

Lilia shook her head. “All the world’s people have to come together now and put an end to Dilzweld’s evil ambitions.”

Darc’s eyes blackened at her words. “All the world’s _human people_ , eh?” He turned away. “I see now, all too clearly. So there aren’t any Deimos worth defending in this world of yours.”

Lilia felt like slapping herself as she realized her mistake. “I...I didn’t…That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, I get it, all right. You humans think of nothing but yourselves. You have no reason to even consider what might happen to the Deimos. Defending my world, the Deimos world, is my responsibility! We need no help from weakling humans.” He made to leave, but not before glancing over his shoulder once more. “You stay in there for now. I’m sure I’ll find some use for you in my struggle against humankind.”

Lilia watched him go, curling her fingers around one of the cold metal bars. “Darc…”

She did not expect him to halt at the sound of her voice. He didn’t turn to her again, but she knew he was listening, waiting for her to say her piece.

“...Do you ever remember hearing the name Nafia? That was Kharg’s mother’s name - Kharg, the one with the same Wind Stone as you. Could there be some kind of a connection…?”

She realized immediately that this was the wrong thing to say, the wrong topic to try to discuss with him, for Darc stormed back to the door of her cell with a face full of fury.

“Don’t toy with me!” he snarled. “I don’t have a mother. I’m Darc, son of Windalf the Drakyr! You think you could fool me with such a pathetic story?”

“That’s not what I was trying to do…!” she exclaimed. Then against her better judgement, she added, “Why don’t you believe anything humans say? Maybe you’re not a Deimos after all. Maybe you’re a human.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Darc spat, and Lilia could hear no small amount of contempt in his tone. “I’m not a full-blooded Deimos. I was probably born of a human mother. But...” His voice strained suddenly, like he was struggling to form the words. “My father told me that my mother...that she died.”

Lilia remained very quiet. She had not really expected him to give her an honest answer or to provide any sort of insight into something so personal.

“So now the human who brought me into this world is gone. And even if my mother were alive…” his voice hardened with hatred again. “I’d kill her with my own hands!”

Lilia gasped. “But why?”

“DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE, BEING BORN INTO A BODY LIKE THIS?” he roared. Lilia retreated to the back wall in terror. “HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY UNDERSTAND?”

No, of course she didn’t. She _couldn’t_. She had no idea, couldn’t even begin to imagine what his life must have been like. But as she looked at him, his face contorted in rage and his wrath radiating from him so intensely she could feel it even from the far corner of her cell, she realized that someone - or perhaps, many someones - had hurt this man terribly.

It was the only real reason she could identify for his moodiness and his anger, and the sorrow she saw so often pass like a dark shadow over his gaze. She knew despite their short acquaintance that he was not as cruel and heartless as he liked to portray himself to be, for beneath all his aggression she could sense his warmth and kindness, locked carefully away behind his tough exterior, tempered by hardship and hardened by pain.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Darc said nothing. He turned, still smoldering, and left her alone in the cold dungeon with only her regret for company.

 

~x~

 

Darc carefully unraveled the bandage from around his midsection, wincing as it peeled away from his wound.

He was glad of the quiet reprieve his sleeping chamber provided, just off the arena’s main hall. A warm fire had greeted him when he’d returned, still fuming, from the dungeon. His armor and sword now lay at his side, reflecting the orange glow from the hearth as he sat cross-legged on the stone floor, inspecting the length of white cloth in his lap.

She had wrapped his wound well. The deep gashes in his back had bled little despite the amount of fighting and traveling he had done since the previous afternoon.

 _But why?_ Why had she helped him? How could she look at him, touch him, be near him as she had undoubtedly done at Crossell Springs? Wasn’t she disgusted by his grotesque appearance, his deformed body? Why would a human girl care about what happened to him at all?

_Why, you ask? Because you were hurt._

Her gentle words floated back to him as he recalled their conversation in the forest. Darc shook his head and kneaded his brow with the knuckles of his human hand. That made no sense. Her reasoning was too simplistic, even for a human.

She was the only person who had ever shown him kindness since his father had died. Her kindness toward him was like an oasis in the desert, but like a mirage, he wasn’t foolish or naive enough to believe it.

Was she, perhaps, trying to manipulate him or lure him into a false sense of security in order to gain some sort of advantage?

Somehow, Darc couldn’t quite bring himself to accept that. He had endured abuse and betrayal at the hands of others too many times before to not see a trap from a mile away. Lilia was honest. Her kindness was genuine, her intentions pure. And yet…

The heavy clunk of Gorma’s staff approaching in the hall outside chased away his troubled thoughts. The aged Orcon appeared a moment later, carrying a bucket of steaming water and his medicine pouch.

“Ah, Darc. I received your message that you require my expertise.”

Darc glanced up at him before returning his gaze to the fire.

“Gorma,” he greeted the old Deimos mildly.

Of all the Orcon, Gorma was the only one with whom Darc had never had any disputes. Even when he’d been enslaved, the elder had behaved in a paternal way toward him, always keen to share his company and impart his wisdom.

Gorma set the bucket down by his side, along with his medicine bag and a roll of fresh bandages before seating himself with a tired groan behind the leader of his tribe.

“Ah, this wound has already begun healing quite well. There’s very little inflammation...” The old Deimos prodded the wound stiffly with one of his bony fingers. Darc jerked at the sharp pain. “Still tender, I see…”

Darc watched as Gorma wrung out the cloth floating in the bucket at his side, a strong medicinal odor washing over him. Though he knew the ancient Orcon was quite used to treating all manner of sick and injured Deimos, he still hated it when he touched and examined his half-human body.

Gorma dabbed the warm towel against his wound. Darc shut his eyes tightly against the sting.

“Who treated this injury for you?” the Orcon inquired after a moment. “It’s very clean. No signs of infection.”

Darc did not speak for a long moment.

“...The human girl.”

He uttered the words very quietly, as if he were divulging some terrible secret.

Gorma stopped what he was doing.

“The human girl?” he repeated. “I’m surprised she’s knowledgeable about such things. I was under the impression that humans only want to cause harm and destroy everything. I won’t deny she has a healer’s touch, though.”

Darc remained silent as the old Deimos began cleaning the wound again. Gorma had never exactly been the gentle type, but he was the wisest and most skilled healer in all of Orcoth, even more so than the Quorup.

Darc found himself wishing for Lilia’s careful hands instead. He scowled at the intrusive thought.

“So, what are you planning to do with her?” Gorma continued conversationally as he spread a cool paste over the wound. “Surely you must be holding her for ransom, no?”

“She has information,” Darc replied. “She could be very useful in our fight against the humans.”

He lifted his arms so Gorma could wrap a clean bandage around his ribs.

“I see. Well, you certainly know what you’re doing. I know that you will do everything in your power to protect us from the humans. You have a kind heart. You’re not like Densimo.”

_I knew you were different from other Deimos. You have a kind heart._

Darc pushed the memory of Lilia’s gentle smile from his mind.

Gorma was busy gathering up his healing supplies. For one fleeting moment, Darc felt a strange impulse to snatch the dirty, blood stained bandage out of his withered hands. Instead, he rose and went to the bottle of red berry wine on the table, pouring some into a goblet made from the sun bleached skull of a demon. The old Deimos bid him good night before shuffling out, and Darc relaxed into the many furs and monster pelts that adorned his sleeping ledge.

He sipped his wine thoughtfully. The sweet, ruby liquor warmed his throat with a pleasant burn as he watched the flames flicker and curl in dancing patterns on the hearth. His wound tingled slightly, soothed by Gorma’s herbs.

_Kharg…_

The word formed silently on his lips as he recalled the name.

Darc reached into his pocket and rubbed the thumb of his human hand over the smooth surface of the Wind Stone. Was it really broken in half? Was the other piece somewhere on Ragnoth? Had Lilia really met his...his brother?

Darc heaved a frustrated sigh and shook his head. What nonsense. The Wind Stone _must_ be complete, for the Wind Spirit had appeared to him through it. Otherwise, why hadn’t his father told him if the stone was broken? Why had he never mentioned Kharg before if he had a brother?

Of course...Lilia had just invented some dumb story so that she could use his mixed race against him, just like everyone else. She only wanted him to free her. She would tell him anything if she thought it might help.

He gazed at his mismatched hands and hatred bubbled like hot magma in his chest.

Curse his human mother, wherever that damned whore might be. Long dead, he hoped. How dare she impose this wretched existence on him? No doubt she had abandoned him the moment she laid eyes on his deformed body, leaving him to fend for himself in this merciless world.

...And why shouldn’t she? No one could ever love a hideous, disgusting half-breed like him. It was just a pity he hadn’t died before he became conscious of his suffering.

Darc crushed the goblet stem in his grasp, deep-hued crimson wine drenching his azure scales like diluted blood. The demon skull rolled across the stone floor with a tremendous clatter. He flung the shards of glass away from him in disgust.

Well, that was just fine with him. He had no use for any stupid, worthless human emotions like _love_. He was a Deimos, damnit! He’d slain that part of himself - the human part of himself -  long ago. Curse that girl for reminding him of those chains.

The hearth glowed red with the faint light of dying embers. Darc threw his arm over his face as if to block the painful memories invading his mind and drifted into a troubled sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

The adrenaline-fueled heat of battle rushed through his veins as he whirled and finished Densimo, slamming the edge of his blade into the Orcon’s thick body.

All that was left was Geedo.

“Stop! Please don’t!” she cried, begging him as he rounded on her.

His rage was far beyond his control. He would never have been able to spare her even if he wanted to. Years of anger and pain born of unimaginable suffering resided in his sword as he raised his fist to deliver the final blow. 

Geedo had given up trying to defend herself entirely, cowering pathetically before him as she pleaded for her life. Darc brought his sword down, slashing her again and again long after she was already dead. He hacked viciously at her corpse until the fire of battle receded and something else encroached upon his soul, a difficult combination of relief and regret. 

He bent to pick up all the gold for which Geedo had sold him and laughed like a man driven mad.

“That’s terrible.”

Darc turned, splattered in the still-warm blood of his tormentors, toward the sound of the soft voice behind him. Lilia stood in the rainbow-colored sunlight filtering through the stained glass of the Church Ruins, taking in the horrible scene before her.

“You understand nothing, foolish human!” he shouted angrily. “You hear me? NOTHING!”

But she just watched him, sad and silent, her deep sapphire eyes glittering brightly with unshed tears.

He raised his sword again.

_ Darc… _

 

~x~

 

Darc pushed himself up on his elbows, gasping raggedly for breath. 

The nightmare still burned in his vision as his eyes quickly swept the chamber, phantom shadows lingering in the corners of his mind. He rubbed his human hand forcefully over his face, palm slick with sweat. His pulse was racing in his neck. Spirits, he was shaking, too. 

He made to reach for the wine goblet when he remembered he’d smashed it the night before and drank from the bottle instead.

Many nights had the memory of that fateful day in the Church Ruins revisited him in his dreams, but never had it disturbed him so. Darc took another long draught, trying to cool his parched throat and calm the furious hammering of his heart. 

_ Lilia _. 

He drained the bottle and rubbed his eyes again, but he could not erase her tearful expression from his mind.

Annoyance prickled beneath the surface. Why the hell had she been there this time? And what did he care if he’d killed her? It made no difference, anyway. She was just a weakling human, unworthy of his concern.

But the image still bothered him as he buckled on his armor and picked up his sword.

It was early yet, the grey sky just beginning to lighten in the east. The chill of the morning air soothed his frayed nerves, drying the feverish, nightmare-induced sweat on his skin. Much of Orcoth was still asleep. Perhaps he would go check on the Firble egg while he had a few hours of peace and quiet to himself.

An odd feeling in his chest suddenly made its presence known to him as he passed by the dungeon - a gentle, warming sensation he had never felt before. Darc frowned. Maybe he shouldn’t have drunk so much wine that early in the morning. But the feeling grew stronger as he considered asking Lilia about the Spirit Stones again, an insistent tug that directed his steps toward the narrow staircase before he could change his mind.

The guard nodded respectfully to him and as he descended into the darkness, he heard voices echoing up from below.

“Song? Music?” Darc recognized Zugalo’s voice. “What are you talking about?”

“They bring us great happiness,” came Lilia’s soft timbre.

“Happiness? Does that taste good? Is it filling?”

“No, no, no. Happiness heals your soul and comforts you,” she explained.

Darc rounded the corner and the prison cell came into view. Lilia and Zugalo were conversing calmly through the bars of the heavy door. They appeared to be getting along quite well.

“Huh? I have no idea what you’re talking about! That’s the kind of good things there are in human world?”

Lilia nodded earnestly. “Yes!”

“What the hell are you doing?!” 

Zugalo flinched horribly at the harsh sound of his voice booming around the cavern. “Darc! I, um, that is...I was just...j-just giving the prisoner her bread and water...Y-you said twice a day - ”

“I don’t remember telling you to talk with the human!” he snarled as he approached. “Now get out of here!”

Zugalo timidly scurried off.

“We were just talking…” Lilia said as the Orcon’s skittish footsteps faded away.

“Humans and Deimos shouldn’t be chatting like that!”

“It has nothing to do with race!” she exclaimed. “As long as you understand how each other feels…”

It was just the type of thing for her to say. Ever since the very first time he had spoken to her, it was obvious that she wasn’t like other humans. She really didn’t care if someone was human or Deimos at all.

Which was stupid.

“We don’t need to understand each other!” Darc spat. He wasn’t even sure why he was so angry, but as she looked at him serenely with her clear sapphire gaze, he began to quake with fury. “We’re enemies!”

Lilia went over to the rock in the corner and sat down with her back to him, crossing her arms firmly over her chest. “Fine. I won’t speak to you either, then.”

Darc scoffed. “Suits me! Who would ever want to waste their time talking to a stupid human, anyway?”

“Then why don’t you release me?”

It was a fair question. There was no point in him keeping Lilia imprisoned here if she had already told him everything she knew about Dilzweld and the Great Spirit Stones. 

“I may still have some use for you. You seem to know a lot about the Spirits.”

Lilia did not move or speak. Darc seethed.

“Fine! I’ll keep you locked up for as long as it takes! For all I care, you can just stay in there until you die!”

And before Lilia even had time to respond, he stormed out of the dungeon again.

 

~x~

 

“I still don’t get why the hell he’s dragging us all the way out here!”

“Delma, it would probably be better for everyone involved if you just shut up and do as Darc says.”

“Well,  _ excuse _ me for not wanting to be left out of the loop!”

Darc ignored them. He was so used to it by now that whenever Delma and Volk started bickering, he automatically tuned them out. The Church Ruins were up ahead, around a bend in the road east of Orcoth. Darc could already see the crumbling walls above the treetops.

“If you’re out of the loop, it’s your own fault. Maybe you should have thought about that before you backstabbed Darc.”

“What?! I’ll kick your ass for saying that!”

Darc stopped in the middle of the path and held up a hand to silence them.

“What’s that sound…?”

A familiar, high-pitched chirp carried faintly to them on the mid-morning air. 

“A Firble?” Delma turned to him incredulously. “But why?”

“Actually, I never told you this...” Darc said. “But there was a single Firble egg left.”

“R-Really?!” Delma exclaimed, not quite able to conceal the anxiety in her voice. “Why did you keep that from me?”

Darc lowered his eyes. “Because I didn’t wanna be betrayed again.”

“Darc…”

“Come on!” Darc interrupted her before she could say anything more and led them to the nest in the corner of the churchyard.

The sunlight was pleasantly warm on his skin. Darc briefly recalled his dream and Lilia’s sorrow when he passed in front of his father’s grave, but he pushed the thought away as he approached the newborn monster chirping excitedly beneath the tree.

“Finally we meet, little Firble,” he breathed when he saw the small creature. 

The Fible looked up at him with shiny black, marble-like eyes.

“I never thought we’d see another one,” Delma said. “What are you going to do, Darc? Raise it into a Pyron?”

“But it’s just been born,” Volk reasoned. He glanced at Darc. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

Darc scratched his chin as he considered for a moment. “Good question. We should probably ask Gorma.”

It was still quite early in the day. With any luck, the old Deimos would be at home.

His companions followed him out of the ruins.

 

~x~

 

“Well, how about this? Would you play that ortena instrument and sing for us? We can smuggle it to you so Darc won’t find out.”

Lilia joined the two Orcon on the other side of the cell door. Zoram and Zugalo had taken to visiting her often during the long hours of her imprisonment in the dark dungeon. They seemed curious about her and asked many questions about the human territories, listening intently to her descriptions of buildings and airships and civilization.

“Yeah...I wanna hear it, too,” Zugalo said.

“You know,” Zoram continued. “Working for Darc is no picnic. He drives us pretty hard.”

Lilia hummed thoughtfully. “Can you tell me a little bit about him?”

“Who?”

“Darc. What’s his story? He always seems so...upset.”

“Well, I don’t know about upset, but…I mean...” Zoram looked furtively around and lowered his voice to a loud whisper. “He used to be a slave.”

Lila gasped. “Darc...was a  _ slave _ ?”

“Shh!” Zoram hissed and put a claw to his lips. “Yeah, ever since he was a kid. Who knows what that old hag did to him. I’d be surprised if he didn’t have a few loose screws, if you know what I mean. But don’t tell anyone I said that! If Darc finds out I told you, he’ll make an example out of me for sure!”

Lilia gazed beyond the two Orcon without really focusing on anything, listening to the steady trickle of water echoing around the cavern. Zoram must be pulling her leg. Did he really expect her to believe a Deimos king had at one time been a slave? Surely it couldn’t be true.

At least, that was what she hoped.

“But why?” she asked. “He’s the leader of your tribe, isn’t he?”

“Ah...he’s not been our leader for very long,” Zoram said. “No one believed it at first when we heard he’d killed Densimo. Darc said he’d been betrayed. We really underestimated his strength.”

“Y-Yeah, we always thought Darc was the weakest,” Zugalo chimed in with a nervous giggle. “B-Because he kind of looks like a human. We used to call him a D-Deimos w-wannabe.”

Lilia regarded the two Orcon sadly. If what they said was true, then no wonder Darc was so angry and untrusting.

She recalled Darc’s furious words from the night before.

“...Was he enslaved because of how he looks?”

Zoram and Zugalo exchanged uncomfortable glances. 

“Who knows? That’s just how it was,” Zoram said. “We Deimos follow the law of survival of the fittest.”

Lilia wrapped her arms around herself and stared silently at the glowing blue ferns. Despite how much Darc had yelled and threatened her, she felt a swell of compassion rise in her chest like an ocean wave at the thought of him. Perhaps Darc often behaved the way he did because he was constantly in pain of some sort or another. 

She did not want to imagine him suffering under the lash.

“S-So...are you gonna sing and play that ortena for us or not?”

“Yeah, we need a change of pace, and this is just the thing to refresh us,” Zoram said conversationally, as if they hadn’t just been casually discussing the complete and utter degradation of their king.

“Sure,” Lilia replied absently. She really didn’t feel like singing at the moment. “If I can be of any service…”

“Hey! What are you doing?!”

Lilia startled. She was beginning to wonder if Darc didn’t even trust the very Deimos he’d appointed to keep an eye on her. 

“Hey, Zugalo!” Zoram said, and Lilia could tell he was frightened by his leader’s sudden appearance. “Guess I’d better get back to the arena, eh?

“Y-Yeah…” Zugalo stuttered.

The two Orcon slouched away, avoiding Darc’s accusatory gaze.

“Everyone’s afraid of you,” Lilia said quietly as he stalked toward her.

“That’s to be expected. They obey the strong. Power is everything for a Deimos.”

“But power alone isn’t strength.”

“I know,” Darc said irritably, and he hung his head, looking suddenly quite weary.

Lilia regarded him for a moment. “Then…”

“Oh, what do you know, anyway?” he snapped. “Do you think Deimos can be overcome by anything but brute force?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Lilia watched him go, deep in thought.

Perhaps.

 

~x~

 

Lightning flashed behind the looming, dilapidated silhouette of Geedo’s house.

It was the first time Darc had returned to the moldering structure since he'd freed himself. He tried not to think about the shackles hanging in the basement.

“Are you sure there’s some Phoenix Blood here, Darc?” Volk asked as they climbed the steps.

“Positive. I bought the Quorup’s last bottle for Geedo a few weeks ago.”

Delma tossed the crimson Rebound Fruit between her hands. “Yeah, I remember that, too. I was there.”

They entered the dimly lit hovel. Darc went over to the trunk. It opened at his touch.

“Geedo’s spell is broken...” He reached inside and picked up the crystal vial. “Here it is! Huh? There’s still something in here.” He examined what appeared to be an old tile. “What’s this? Looks like writing of some sort.”

“Ha!” Delma laughed. “I didn’t know that old hag could read!”

“What’s it say, Darc?” Volk asked curiously.

_ "Over the oceans from long, long ago comes a voice in the wind from an ancient soul… _ ” Darc recited quietly. Thunder rolled overhead in the silence. He turned the tile over but that was all that was written. “Voice in the wind? Ancient soul? What does  _ that  _ mean?”

_ “Are you the one...Are you the one who has the Ancient Tablet?” _

“Shit!” Delma jumped, looking behind her. “What the hell was that?”

“What?! Show yourself!” Darc commanded roughly with his hand on the hilt of his sword. 

A small, robed figure materialized in front of him, bobbing slightly in the air.

“Who are you?!”

“My name is Kirjath…Kirjath the Fallen,” the figure said, his voice weak and brittle like a dead tree in a winter storm. “Having angered the gods, they cursed my body with immortality. Though I age and wither, though my bones grow frail and shatter, I cannot die. I am but a wandering shade in search of salvation. And who are you, with the Ancient Tablet?”

“I’m Darc, he who will become the Deimos King!” Darc answered brusquely.

“Aha. Darc, the Deimos King,” Kirjath continued. “Hearken to my words. The tablet...I want the Ancient Tablet you hold. I beg you, give it to me.”

Darc looked down at the weathered tile in his hands. “Hmph. I don’t care, really, either way. But why do you want it? Tell me. What do you need it for?” He held it up to the light, squinting at the faded lettering again. “Is there some sort of secret power hidden in this tablet?”

“No, there is no power in the Ancient Tablet, I’m afraid,” Kirjath replied, his reedy voice cracking. “Only salvation...words of salvation. Engraved upon its face are the words of the first to encounter the Spirits. It is said these words bring comfort, healing, and salvation to those who suffer.” 

“The first to encounter the Spirits? Words of salvation?” Darc repeated. “Is that so? There’s nothing on here but this random nonsense.”

“The words will make sense as they go on,” Kirjath said. “This is but a fragment.”

“This isn’t the whole thing?” Darc spat.

“Long, long ago, that tablet was sealed within a holy ark,” Kirjath explained. “But then it was broken, and its pieces were scattered throughout the world. If all are gathered once more...even I, who have tasted the gods’ wrath, could be saved.”

Darc looked at the phantom doubtfully. “So you’re saying the words on this tablet can rescue you somehow? I don’t believe that.”

“Please...Deimos King,” Kirjath implored. “Seek out the tablets that remain. Such a task is far beyond my abilities. I am but a ghost of my worldly self. I beg you...save me.”

“Why should I do that for you?” Darc snapped. “I have my own business to take care of. I’m on a mission to save the Deimos!”

“Please...Darc,” Kirjath begged him. “King of all Deimos...Do not forsake me. For I have waited many millenia...My cursed body unwilling, unable to die...I have merely waited. Waited for one who could hear the voices of the Spirits. For one to seek out the tablets. For one to save me from my misery.”

Darc lowered his eyes. Despite himself, he sympathized with the wretched figure.

“Oh, Darc. Deimos King. Hear my humble plea. Seek out the Ancient Tablets. Gather them from where they lay scattered around the world. Cursed by the gods, I have no one to turn to but you. Save me. This alone I ask.”

Darc exhaled a heavy. long-suffering sigh. “Damn. I guess I have no choice. I don’t need this tablet, anyway. If I find any others, I’ll bring them all to you.”

“I thank you, truly,” Kirjath said, his voice thick with gratitude. “I will come before you once more. Until then...”

The specter faded. 

“What was  _ that _ about?” Delma huffed.

Darc pocketed the items. “Never mind that right now. We still need a Fire Fragment if we want to have our Pyron. Let’s get back to Orcoth.”

They stepped out into the storm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was actually based on two optional scenes in the game. It took me forever to discover them. If you go talk to Lilia in the dungeon every chance you get, there's some extra dialogue between her and Darc. Obviously, I've taken some liberties here, but I wanted to include them.


	4. Chapter 4

Gorma’s train car was empty.

“Where the hell is that old geezer?” Delma said, stamping her foot in annoyance.

Darc turned and went outside to speak with the elder’s attendant. 

“G-G-G-Gorma?” she stammered nervously. “W-Well, s-sir...that is...He’s gone off somewhere. Where? I-I don’t know. I don’t know anything.”

She slunk away, eyeing him fearfully.

Delma scoffed. “What’s her problem?”

“What should we do, Darc?” Volk said. “We really need to find him. Any idea where he might have gone?”

“Hey, you!” Darc spat, prowling over to the Quorup at the equipment shop. The merchant startled when he realized Darc was talking to him. “Where the hell is Gorma?”

“Ah - Darc - well, you see...ah...” the Quorup began nervously, wiping his brow with the back of his claw.

“Spit it out,” Darc warned between clenched teeth. “Or I’ll beat it out of you. Where is he?”

“Well, you see...some Orcon said they heard someone singing from over by the dungeon - I have nothing to do with it, I swear! - and Gorma said he was going to investigate...”

Darc turned his eyes toward the dungeon and hot anger surged in his chest. Without another word, he stalked over to the narrow staircase leading to the cavern below.

“Hang on, Darc, where are we going?”

“Wait here,” was all he said before descending into the gloom.

He was going to take the Light Stone and cast that damned human out of Orcoth himself once and for all! Keeping her around had been a mistake. She was much more trouble than she was worth. But before he even reached the landing, an eerie, high-pitched melody soared up to meet him, followed by Lilia’s crystalline soprano. 

_ “Over the oceans from long, long ago comes a voice in the wind from an ancient soul. Storm clouds break away revealing a shining sun, pouring out the light that will guide me...” _

Darc halted at the foot of the stairs, shrinking back into the shadows, and tilted his head toward the beautiful sound of her voice echoing like a chorus of angels around the stone chamber.  

_ “How could you see and not believe? There must be a soul. I don’t know when I’ll leave this life, so if I’m going to be I might as well be flying high...” _

Staying close to the threshold, Darc peered curiously around the corner. Lilia was sitting on the rock in the corner of the cell below, cradling a strange instrument in the crook of her arm that glowed brightly blue while her other hand moved gracefully over it, as if she were playing an invisible harp.

He wanted her to stop, wanted to take the instrument from her and break it so that he would never hear its beautiful melody again. But as he listened, resting his head against the wall with his eyes closed as if enchanted by some magic spell, her song gently soothed away his anger and the tremendous pain residing in the deepest recess of his soul like a powerful sedative.

_ “Maybe soon will come a day all things will fall into place. Holding and trusting, miracles teach us to believe...” _

Darc moved away from the wall, ashamed that her music had appealed to his weakness.

“Stop!”

Lilia gasped. So did many of the Deimos crowded around the door of her cell. The girl hugged the instrument to her chest, the last few notes dying with a haunting echo in the gloom.

“Doesn’t this look fun!” Darc snapped in the oppressive silence as he prowled toward them. His anger had returned in full measure. “Well?”

“Well, ah…” Zoram shuffled, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. “That is...we...uh…” His mumbling was cut short by Darc’s murderous glare. “It’s just that it’s an awfully nice song, and we don’t hear them very often, so…we couldn’t help it…”

“That’s right!” Gorma chimed in, trying to placate his leader’s volatile mood. “She’s playing such a strange instrument, and it’s such a good song...She just sparked our interest, that’s all.”

“Shut up!” Darc spat. The assembled Deimos retreated a few paces so that they might escape his wrath. 

“D-Darc...did you not like the music?”

Darc hesitated, caught unawares by Zugalo’s innocent question. 

“That’s enough!” he barked. “Get out of here!”

The Orcon filed silently toward the stairs, avoiding their leader’s furious gaze. Lilia watched them sadly.

“Wait, Gorma,” Darc said as the old Deimos began to climb the steps. “Haven’t you made that Fire Fragment yet?”

Gorma turned to address his leader nervously. “Y-Yes, of course I have. I’ve left it at the Quorup’s market.”

“Is that so?” Darc said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he scrutinized the elder. The Quorup had made no mention of it.

“I-I guess I’ll be going now,” Gorma replied, and he hurried up the staircase as quickly as his bony legs and walking stick allowed.

“The Deimos here can’t even enjoy songs, can they?” Lilia spoke quietly when they were finally alone.

“Are you trying to be sarcastic?” Darc snapped.

“I don’t know what kind of difficult past you may have had,” she began tentatively. “But anger and hatred only increase sadness and suffering. They only force sorrow and pain onto others…”

“Be quiet!” he snarled. “Shut your mouth!”

But even as he spat the words at her like venom, he knew she was right. His anger burned so intensely in his chest it was beginning to hurt, as if it were a caustic substance corroding his soul.

“You of all people should understand! You can hear the voices of the Spirits.”

“SHUT UP, I said!”

His voice echoed around the underground cavern, and at that very moment he  _ hated  _ the way she was looking at him, with her eyes full of sorrow and pity. No longer did she seem afraid of his awful temper. Instead, she appeared to be deep in thought, frowning prettily while she studied his face.

Darc felt quite suddenly self-conscious with her eyes on him, and he became acutely aware of just how monstrous he must appear to her. The warm sensation in his chest from earlier that morning returned, rippling like a gentle current around his heart that momentarily neutralized his rage and made him want to hide from her searching gaze. He curled his claw behind the folds of his kilt and backed away.

Lilia’s lips parted as if she wanted to say something more. 

Darc turned and retreated to the stairs.

 

~x~

 

Volk and Delma were uncharacteristically quiet on their way back to the Church Ruins. They must have realized his foul mood the second he reappeared from the dungeon, for they remained silent even as he chewed out the Quorup loud enough to make passerby stare before slamming his gold down on the counter.

“Well...at least we’ll have our Pyron now, right?” Delma said timidly when they entered the courtyard.

Darc made no indication he’d even heard her. He marched over to the Firble’s nest and dropped the Fire Fragment among the straw and leaves without so much as a word. The small creature crunched away happily as his companions joined him beneath the shade.

“How long do you think it’s going to take?” Volk asked.

Delma shrugged. “Beats me. It better hurry up, I’m looking forward to kicking some human butt!”

The Firble went very still, made a strange burping sound, then suddenly collapsed in the dry grass.

“Wh-Whoa! The Firble just sort of flopped over!” 

Darc’s fingers fled to his birthmark. If the Firble was dead, they were screwed.

“If we give it the three foods, it’ll grow into a Pyron…” Volk said, recalling their instructions. “That’s what Gorma said, anyway.”

“I think...it’s sleeping…?” Delma shot him and uncertain glance.

“Has Gorma given it enough?” Volk shrugged at her. 

“The stuff Gorma makes has never been what I’d call decent. Boiled herbs, crushed eggshells… He made me drink it whenever I got sick, but it never worked at all!”

“That rotten Gorma!” Darc growled. “Making me fork over so much money!” He turned to his companions, fury rising in his voice. “I’m going back to Orcoth. I’ll string that Gorma up by his eyebrows!”

 

~x~

 

The acrid smell of gun smoke was the first indication that something was wrong. Darc could smell it even from the main road leading to Orcoth, its unmistakable odor associated with human violence and destruction lingering heavily like a warning on the air. 

“That’s strange. Isn’t it a little too quiet?” Delma said as they reached the stone gates of the city.

“It is…” Darc breathed, slowing his steps. “It doesn’t feel right.” His foot nudged something on the ground. “Eh…? What’s this?”

He stooped to pick up the carved object, and as he examined the smooth, polished wood, he felt a crushing sensation like his throat was closing up.

“No doubt about it…” he muttered, more to himself than his companions. “It’s Lilia’s…”

“I smell blood…” Volk growled. “Watch out! Something’s happened!”

The Lupine’s words barely even registered. Darc slowly straightened up. His battle instincts flared, alarming him of danger, but there was something else - something like  _ fear  _ \- which kept him otherwise motionless as the fingers of his human hand tightened around Lilia’s ortena. 

“What the hell happened to her…?”

He closed his eyes tightly.  _ Gone. _

She must be, of that much he was certain. His mind was spinning, trying to piece together a coherent narrative with what little information he had. Did she somehow escape from the dungeon unnoticed? Had she run away?

Had he scared her away?

He traced his thumb along the polished wood and tried to ignore the creeping feeling of shame and sudden emptiness expanding in his chest.

“Darc! Are you listening to me?”

Darc turned to the Lupine and stowed the ortena safely in the sash of his kilt. 

“Yeah, I heard you.”

“L-Look!” Delma gasped.

Darc followed the line of her gaze. Corpses littered the streets of Orcoth, lying broken and motionless, riddled with bullet holes.

“Wh-What...? What’s all this?! Why is everyone dead? What the hell happened while I was gone?!”

“Let’s check it out, Darc,” Volk said. His tone was grave. “This is one serious turn of events.”

Darc drew his sword and descended the steps, Delma and Volk close on his heels. For reasons he could not even begin to dissect at the moment, he headed straight to the dungeon.

The door of the prison cell had been blown clean off its hinges. Zugalo was crouched on the ground, grievously wounded and rasping harshly for breath.

“D...Darc…” he managed to gasp with an enormous effort. “The h-humans...took L-Lilia...I...I tried...W-we fought...so h-hard...B-but we...we couldn’t keep...L-Lilia...safe...P-please...forgive m-me…”

Darc sheathed his weapon and dropped to one knee.

“No need to speak now! We have to focus on your injuries…”

“I...I’m so happy…” Zugalo gasped, and his mouth actually twisted into something resembling a smile as he gazed up at his leader. “S-such kind words...f-for the first time…”

The Orcon groaned and clutched at the hole in his stomach.

“Are you all right, Zugalo?!” Darc said urgently.

“I...I’m...a...a goner…” was all he could manage before he collapsed at Darc’s feet.

“Zugalo! Don’t die! I order you! Don’t die, Zugalo!”

“Darc…” came Volk’s gruff voice from some distance behind him, “Darc, he’s dead…”

Darc rubbed his human hand over his face and took several deep breaths, his eyes scanning the underground cavern. The humans had indeed taken Lilia. No sign of her in the dungeon remained, no shred of evidence that she had once been there at all. His fingers fled to his birthmark. In the cold, heavy darkness, the memory of her gentle smile was like a vision from a dream.

Anger began to rise in his chest, masking the more complicated feelings blooming there. The humans had attacked Orcoth without a second thought, slaughtering the Deimos just to take what they wanted. Their humanity was a plague on the entire world, a rabid sickness driven by selfish desire and greed which knew no end. And he had failed to protect Orcoth from them. 

Darc grit his teeth.

He had failed to protect  _ her. _

Darc stood and rounded on his companions. Even Delma was visibly shaken, unable to tear her eyes from Zugalo’s dead body.

“Come on,” he barked roughly and went to the stairs.

“Do you think anyone survived?” Volk panted as he struggled to keep up with his alpha once they emerged from the dungeon.

Darc didn’t answer, but panicked voices could be heard echoing faintly from the arena.

“This way.”

Some two dozen Orcon were crowded around Gorma at the center of the stone chamber. The old Deimos was banging his staff on the ground in an effort to restore order, to little avail.

“Tell me, Gorma!” Darc roared over the throng. “What happened to Orcoth?”

The Deimos immediately fell silent at the sound of his voice and turned to see him stalking toward them. Then they all began talking again at once.

“Darc!”

“Darc’s back!”

“We’re safe now!”

“Where has he been?”

“SHUT UP!” Darc roared at them. He pushed his way impatiently through the crowd until he was face to face with Gorma.

“The humans came for Lilia.”

Darc stared into his tired old eyes. “For Lilia…?” he repeated. 

“That’s right…” Gorma explained. “And they were terribly efficient. They killed a number of Orcon in a matter of moments…” The ancient Deimos hesitated, his gaze searching Darc’s face. “...And after they found Lilia in the dungeon, they stole her away.”

Darc clutched at his birthmark and lowered his gaze. “Damn! The Dilzweld Army…”

“Those wretched humans!” Delma said, stamping her foot. “I’ll never forgive them!”

“Darc,” the Lupine growled. “We must seek revenge! They need to be punished!”

“Where did the humans go?” Darc asked, meeting Gorma’s eyes again.

“Well, everyone says they came from the Varam Barrens…”

“The Varam Barrens, eh?” Darc said, his human hand toying with the handle of his blade. He turned to his companions. “Come on, let’s follow the Dilzweld Army!”

 

~x~

 

The Varam Barrens were hot and dusty beneath the late afternoon sun. Darc had kept a steady pace from the moment they departed Orcoth, spurred by his smoldering anger and desire for revenge. Volk and Delma were panting raggedly behind him, weapons already drawn in the case of an ambush.

A massive, floating airship was hovering low over the canyon. Darc slowed to a halt.

“There they are!” Delma pointed to a cluster of men in green uniforms near a pile of sandbags. “Humans!”

“Get ready!” Volk growled. “You won’t be going home alive!”

The humans turned in their direction but made no move to attack. Darc stepped forward, hatred searing in his eyes.

“Where’s Lilia?”

It wasn’t until after the words left his mouth that he realized how strange he was acting. Shouldn’t he be more concerned about the Light Stone? They could have the girl as long as the stone didn’t fall into their hands. Why did he suddenly care about her so damn much?

The human who appeared to be some sort of officer sauntered forward with his sabre drawn. 

“You think I’ll tell you, you miserable Deimos? I don’t have time to waste on such foolish creatures!”

The humans turned to board the aircraft.

“Who said you could leave?” Delma shouted angrily.

“Relax,” the commander replied nonchalantly over his shoulder. “I’ve got a little something for you. Just try to enjoy yourselves.”

Darc dove out of the way as a missile rapidly advanced in his periphery. It smashed where he had been a moment before, exploding in a cloud of dust before spawning a fully grown mandrake.

“What…?”

“Darc, what the hell is this thing?” Delma yelled as she crouched behind a tree stump.

The steel-plated machine spawned another monster. Volk advanced, slashing through some metal crates acting as a barricade.

“The hell if I know!” Darc shouted back as he dispatched one of the mandrakes. “Watch your back! We’ll take care of this thing quickly!”

Delma wasted no time casting Fire Storm. When the flames receded, she ducked behind a barrel and called to Darc again.

“Hey, Darc! Isn’t that a Deimos in that machine?”

“What?!” Darc snapped. He dodged to get a closer look at their adversary. On the other side of the contraption’s glass shield was indeed some kind of Deimos. “I never heard of a Deimos siding with humans! Let’s get it!”

Darc shielded his face from the blast of icy wind as Volk cast his Blizzard spell. They closed in, making short work of the machine until its wires fizzled and sparked, billowing grey smoke in the air. Darc smashed his claw furiously through the glass, intent on destroying the traitorous Deimos, but a whirring sound behind him drew his attention.

The airship was rising, its propellers spinning faster as the engines revved to a deafening roar. Darc started toward it, but could only watch helplessly as it began to sail away into the clouds, stained crimson and gold by the setting sun.

“Lilia…”

A peculiar feeling he had never before experienced in the entirety of his life twisted its way into his chest. Darc frowned in his utter bewilderment. The hollow emptiness was still painfully present, as was the strange, peaceful warmth he’d come to associate with her. But there was something else, an inexplicable sorrow he did not understand.

“What is this...this feeling?” He gripped his birthmark, profoundly troubled. “A sort of pressure deep within my chest...making it hard to breathe...What am I feeling?”

Unless he was very much mistaken, he was truly worried for the girl.

“Hey Darc!” Delma’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “What the hell is  _ that _ ?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know these first few chapters may have come across as summary, but I promise not all the scenes in the game will be recited word for word. There is more "filling in the gaps" as the story continues. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry it's taken me a little more time to post a new chapter. As much as I'd love to spend all my time writing this story, real life responsibilities must take priority.
> 
> This is a bit of a lighter chapter. I feel the need to include some comic relief when I can, because the angst is just going to continue building as we go along. I *love* angst (I'm such a sadist, I know), but I understand that some people might want a little break from that once in a while.

“Shut up, you old hag!”

“Oho! I wouldn’t talk like that if I were you, Delma dear. It’s very unbecoming of you…”

“What? Say that a little louder!”

“Well, if you want to impress Master Darc, I certainly wouldn’t use such foul language!”

“Who ever said anything about impressing Darc? At least I can fight, unlike _somebody…_ ”

“See, that’s exactly why he pays you no attention, my dear. A lady should be reserved and well-mannered, even on the battlefield. You’re such a dreadful little thing…”

“SHUT UP, you old bitch!”

Darc clenched his jaw. Too much more of this, and he had half a mind to lay them both out with the flat of his blade just so he could have a moment to think. Volk kept pace alongside him, glancing over his shoulder every now and then with his good eye as the two women continued to bicker, falling further and further behind.

“Just what we needed…” Volk growled. “Someone else for Delma to argue with. What do you say we leave them once we get to Adenade if they keep on like this? They can find their own way to the shrine. Might give us a few hours of peace and quiet to come up with a strategy, eh?”

Darc grunted his indifference. Under no other circumstances would he have allowed Camellia to join them if it wasn’t for her knowledge. It was all thanks to the Pianta sage that he now had a new lead to follow, after all, despite her glaringly poor battle skills. Perhaps he would have Delma spar with her a bit to improve her strength and agility. Then at least their mutual hatred for each other would serve some other purpose than the dull pain developing between his horns. Maybe it would even shut them up for a while, provided the Orcon girl didn’t kill her.

“So…” Volk continued, giving his alpha a sidelong glance. “Did Gorma say how long the Firble was going to sleep?”

“Not really,” Darc shrugged. “He just said it falls into a deep sleep before becoming a Pyron. He thought it would wake soon enough, though.”

And the sooner, Darc mused, the better. Spirits only knew what they would find once they got to Adenade, how long it would take them to navigate the Coleopt Shrine and retrieve the Water Stone itself. If, that is, the Dilzweld Army wasn’t en route to the continent already.

He directed his steps toward the path leading to the Church Ruins. Lilia had told him she believed Dilzweld only possessed the Earth Stone. Certainly the humans would try to collect the Water Stone as soon as possible. And Darc was going to make sure he got there to take it before they did.

_Lilia…_

Darc frowned at the leaf-strewn path. He couldn’t be distracted by any concern for the human girl now. He was on a mission. Collecting the Great Spirit Stones was of utmost priority, especially before Dilzweld could get their hands on any more of them. And when he tracked down the humans, he was going to take both the Earth Stone _and_ the Light Stone for himself.

It wasn’t like he was going to bother saving the girl or anything. It was her own fault she’d been captured. If she wasn’t such a weakling pacifist...

His thoughts were interrupted by a pair of twig-like arms tugging at the hem of his kilt.

“Please, Darc!” Camellia begged. “Tell that nasty Orcon girl to leave me alone!”

Darc glanced over his shoulder to see Delma storming up to them.

“Call me that again, hag, and I’ll kill you! And don’t go running to Darc like he’ll protect you! You’re a nuisance to all of us!”

“Shut up, both of you!” Darc snapped. “If you can’t cooperate, I’m leaving you here!”

Camellia immediately released him. “Of course, Master Darc…”

“Okay, okay…” Delma grumbled, scuffing the ground with her foot.

“Oh, no, Darc! It’s terrible! Th-the Firble…!”

The Orcon he’d hired to protect the egg skidded to a halt in front of him. Darc mentally pushed aside the twinge of fear in his stomach.

“What happened to it?”

“I-It suddenly went up in flames and turned into this huge monster!” the Orcon panted with his hands resting heavily on his knees.

Darc relaxed as the tension ebbed from his body, and he almost smiled at the news. “I see! So the day has finally come!”

“I-I didn’t do anything!” the Orcon stammered timidly. “Please believe me, Darc!”

“I know. It’s not your fault. You did a good job guarding it all this time. You can go back to Orcoth now.”

The Orcon stared up at him incredulously. “What? Really?”

“Orcoth is in trouble,” Darc continued. “Go back and see if you can help.”

“Y-Yes, sir…” the Orcon said. He sidled off down the path, glancing cautiously back as if he expected Darc to suddenly change his mind.

“Wow, so it really worked!” Delma exclaimed. “I was certain that old Gorma didn’t have a clue what he was talking about!”

Darc’s claw inched across to touch his birthmark. “Finally...we have our Pyron…”

He dashed up the steps, his companions close on his heels. The massive, brilliantly orange monster was hovering near the edge of the ruins. It rolled over and flipped excitedly in midair when they approached.

“So you’re a Pyron, huh?” Darc said. He couldn’t quite suppress the grin spreading over his face at the monster’s antics.

“What’s this?” Camellia gasped. “I can’t believe I’m seeing the legendary Pyron in a place like this.”

“You know about Pyrons?” Volk exclaimed.

“Of course I do,” she replied regally, trying to draw herself up an inch taller. “Don’t you know who I am? I’m Camellia the Pianta sage.”

Volk turned back to the flaming monster bobbing in the air. “For such a tiny Firble to grow into something like this…” He shook his head in awe. “Gorma was completely right.”

“It sure looks that way,” Darc said.

“But how are we supposed to ride it?” Delma asked. “It’s so damn big...even if we could all get on, we’d fall off!”

“No need to worry,” Camellia reassured her. “Pyrons can change their size at will.” She turned to Darc. “It looks like it trusts you. Try talking to it, Darc. It should take you where you want to go right then and there.”

“Here goes nothing…” Darc muttered. He walked up to the great monster. “Pyron...take us to Adenade.”

The Pyron flipped several times and flew up into the sky. Darc watched it soar over the ocean, shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Wh-Whoa! What’s going on?!” Delma cried. “The Pyron took off by itself!”

“Don’t worry!” Camellia exclaimed. “It’s probably just flying up into the air to get bigger. It’ll be back.”

They watched in silence as the Pyron soared high above them. With a pang he tried to ignore, Darc recalled the sensation of flying over the water and the freedom it provided, even while he was in chains on land. He had never been able to go far, else Geedo’s magic collar would constrict painfully, but it was enough to soothe his mind of the relentless suffering he’d endured. Now, he no longer had that luxury himself, but the promise of finally getting the chance to somehow fly again made his heart quicken in joyful anticipation all the same.

The Pyron hovered before them once more, several times its original size, and offered its massive claws. Darc turned to his companions.

“Let’s get on.”

They climbed into the monster’s secure hold, and with a rush of wind that stole the words from Darc’s lips, the Church Ruins fell rapidly away as they ascended into the heavens.

 

~x~

 

Lilia awoke slowly to the muffled rumble of the Megist’s engines, squinting in the bright, fluorescent light reflecting garishly off the steel plated walls of the small cabin. Her head was pounding, still groggy from whatever tranquilizer the Dilzweld Army had administered during her struggle.

She laid quietly on one of the small cots in the corner of the room, and tried to piece together the events of the last several hours. She had been captured, obviously, but the details of how she had gotten from the dungeon in Orcoth to Dilzweld’s airship were fuzzy at best.

Shortly after her last conversation with Darc, the terrible sound of machine gun fire echoed in the streets above. She had resisted when the army entered the prison chamber, crouching low among the luminous ferns, as had Zugalo, who was visiting with her evening rations, but neither of them had been a match for Dilzweld. It was over so quickly...

And Darc...he had been completely absent during the attack.

Lilia frowned and rested her head against the pillow. Perhaps he’d been involved in the fighting elsewhere and was unable to reach the dungeon in time. Or maybe he’d let Dilzweld capture her on purpose; after all, she had already told him everything she knew about the Great Spirit Stones.

And yet, Darc still hadn’t taken her Light Stone despite how much he wanted it for himself. Surely he would come after Dilzweld, then…

A small, hopeful feeling that had little to do with her captivity fluttered briefly like wings in her chest.

Lilia carefully pushed herself up until she was sitting on the edge of the cot, shutting her eyes again as the cabin swayed.

Oh, who was she kidding? Even if Darc _did_ follow the Dilzweld Army, he would only come for the Great Spirit Stones. Whatever debt he believed he owed her he’d likely repaid in scores. Never had she come to any harm amongst the Deimos. He wouldn’t go out of his way to rescue her. He had no reason to. Darc hated humans. Not to mention, she had been just as much a prisoner in Orcoth as she was here.

No, if she was going to escape this situation, she would have to do it herself.

_But how?_

The door to the cabin abruptly slid open.

“Well, now...I see you’re awake.”

Lilia startled. “Tatjana…”

The blonde, bespectacled scientist leaned nonchalantly against the threshold and gave her a smirk. “Very good. I wasn’t looking forward to having to resuscitate you. Lord Darkham is very pleased with what you’ve brought him. Or rather…” she reached into the pocket of her lab coat and produced the Light Stone. “What _I've_ brought him.”

Lilia glanced down and noticed that her blouse was crooked, the sash around her waist hastily tied. She covered her chest with her hands, heat rising in her cheeks.

“You horrible, wretched woman!”

Tatjana slipped the Light Stone into her lab coat again, patting her pocket for good measure before flashing her smug little grin once more.

“Ah...you didn’t expect me to let you keep it, did you? Poor Lilia...for someone who’s been carrying around one of the Great Spirit Stones all this time, you sure are clueless.”

Lilia shifted, quite uncertain how to respond. The scientist was clearly hiding something from her.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, you will find out soon enough,” Tatjana said, making no effort whatsoever to conceal her glee. “Now be a good girl and behave yourself. I don’t want to waste any more tranquilizers on you. Those are supposed to be for the experiments.”

And with a click of her patent maroon heels, the scientist let herself out, the door slamming shut behind her.

 _Experiments?_ Lilia thought, and a rush of panic left her so suddenly light-headed that she tipped backwards onto the mattress again.

No...surely Dilzweld wasn’t that evil. No one could possibly be barbaric enough to conduct human experiments, not even Tatjana...

Lilia closed her eyes against the pain still throbbing in her head. Dilzweld wanted her for some reason other than the Light Stone itself. For what, she had no idea, but something in the back of her mind told her it wasn’t as benign as Darc’s search for answers.

A foreboding sensation crept up her spine. Lilia covered her face with her hands.

“Oh Spirits, protect me, I pray…”

 

~x~

 

The continent of Adenade was just as hot and dry as Eastern Aldrow. Poisonous snakes and insects inhabited the vast plains and windswept grasslands, which seemed to stretch forever in all directions no matter how long the four companions traveled.

“This is getting really old,” Delma panted as they passed around the canteen after yet another ambush. “Really fast.”

Volk stepped out from beneath the fading remnants of Camellia’s Healing Rain spell. “Hey, Darc, are we even sure we’re going in the right direction?”

Darc raked his human hand through his sweat dampened hair and scanned the horizon, the flat landscape shimmering in the heat among the constant hum of cicadas.

“Camellia...you said the shrine is in the middle of the continent, right?”

The Pianta sage dusted off her skirt and came to stand beside him.

“Yes. It shouldn’t take us longer than a day to reach it. But I could use a nice long rest, ho ho! These old bones aren’t what they used to be…”

“Listen to you, you old biddy!” Delma snapped, marching up to them. “We haven’t even been out here two hours and you’re already complaining!”

“I wouldn’t talk…” Volk muttered under his breath.

“See, Darc? I told you it wasn’t a good idea to bring her along.” She turned to the elderly Deimos again. “And where do you suggest we take ‘a nice long rest’? Out here in the open like this? Hate to break it to you, old hag, but that’s a good way to get killed!”

“The joke’s on you, Delma dear. Rueloon isn’t far.”

“Rueloon?” Darc asked. He lowered his gaze to their long shadows. “How far is it?”

“Closer than the shrine. If we continue north, we’re bound to reach it before nightfall.”

“That’s a terrible idea!” Delma replied scathingly. “We’re not here for a vacation, you know.”

“No,” Darc turned to her. “It’s an excellent idea. You said it yourself. We’re sitting ducks if we camp out in the open like this. So unless you can think of a faster way to the shrine, we won’t make it before sunset.”

“But Darc, it’s not even in the same - ”

“If you want to be eaten alive by monsters out here tonight, be my guest!” he snapped. “I’m going to Rueloon.”

Delma scuffed the parched earth with her foot. “Fine…”

“Come on, Delma. Even you can’t say no to a night at an inn,” Volk said as they fell in step behind their leader. “There’s nothing like a nightcap and a soft bed for the weary traveler…”

“It’s not that!” Delma fumed. “I just can’t stand it that the hag has a point!”

 

~x~

 

Rueloon, it turned out, was a bustling hub for all manner of Deimos. Darc was unable to keep his eyes off the strange Balar and Canidae that roamed the ancient streets. There were far more diverse tribes in the world than he had previously thought. If nothing else, the city seemed quite accustomed to outsiders, for Darc noticed fewer stares than he was used to on Aldrow.

After perusing the Quorup’s wares, they made their way to the pub in the fading light, cheers from the arena echoing faintly through the open windows on the second floor. Darc led his companions to a table in the corner farthest from the bar, illuminated by the low-burning stump of a solitary candle.

“What’ll it be, gentlemen?” said the barkeep when he appeared at Volk’s elbow.

“And ladies,” Camellia prissily corrected him.

“Ah...right,” he continued. “You lot look rather done in. Did you lose at the arena?”

“What?” Volk snapped. “Of course not. Can’t you see we’re travelers? Bring us some food and ale, unless you’ve got something stronger.”

“Hmph,” the barkeep said, clearly miffed by the Lupine’s rudeness. “Say…” he peered at Darc and Delma. “You two aren’t quite old enough to drink yet, are you?”

Delma shrugged. Darc reached into his pocket and slammed a fistful of gold down on the table.

“Four dinners,” he growled. “And four ales. Bring the best you’ve got.”

“Y-Yes, sir…” the barkeep replied, rather taken aback. He scooped up the coins and disappeared through an archway at the far end of the room.

“Gee, Darc…” Delma said. “You didn’t have to pay for all of us…”

The bartender returned soon thereafter, bearing tankards of foaming amber liquid and dishes laden with flatbread, hard cheese, and some sour, spiky fruit.

“What the hell is this?” Delma asked, poking one of the strange fruits with her claw.

“Hey!” Volk snarled, rounding on the barkeep. “He said bring us the best you’ve got!”

“That _is_ the best we’ve got,” he replied stiffly.

They dined in amicable silence, recovering from their arduous trek beneath the sun, until Volk insisted on buying more rounds. Delma became loud and giggly the more she drank, and even Camellia cackled happily at their light hearted banter.

Darc paid little attention to the conversation in front of him. He cradled the rough, wooden tankard between his mismatched hands and watched the lonely candle flame gutter in its pool of wax with a numbed sense of detachment.

During the day he’d been able to push his troubles to the back of his mind, too focused on the quest at hand to allow any distractions. But now, as the sky darkened from dusky blue to the velvety black veil of night, his thoughts turned increasingly inward.

More than anything, he wished to be alone.

“Hey, Darc!” Delma said, leaning heavily against him as she sloshed her ale about and erupted in another fit of uncontrollable giggles. “Look - hee hee - my face is all red! I think I might be drunk!”

Darc pushed his chair back with a loud scrape.

“Hey…you okay there, Darc?”

Volk was peering up at him over the rim of his mug, but his tone was serious.

“Yeah...just turning in early…”

“Hey!” Delma exclaimed. “We’re just having a bit of fun! No need to go off all brooding by yourself like that.”

Darc scowled down at her.

“We can’t afford to waste time tomorrow. I suggest you all get some sleep. Anyone who isn’t ready at dawn is getting left behind. Do you understand me?”

His companions wordlessly nodded their agreement, perturbed by the rather abrupt change in his mood.

“Good. We make for the shrine at first light!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who's interested in this story! I enjoy reading your thoughts and I hope you all like reading this as much as I like writing it!


	6. Chapter 6

Darc rested his weary body against the rough granite wall, listening absently to the low hum of chatter and occasional footsteps of patrons entering and leaving the pub. The Balar at the desk did not charge him for the accommodations, humble as they were, and with only two rooms available, his companions would have to share.

Now that he was finally alone, his thoughts turned inevitably, as they had so many times that day, toward the very subject he was trying desperately to ignore.

Lantern light flickered softly through the gap in the drawn amber curtains, gently illuminating the instrument in his hands. Darc considered the ortena for a moment, his thumb tracing over smooth wood and carved stone. Lilia had somehow made the siren sing, had produced such a beautiful and harrowing sound that he was able to clearly recall it when he closed his eyes.  

_Lilia..._

Darc frowned at his disquiet over this strange preoccupation and the peculiar feelings that arose whenever he thought about the girl. Always she was at the back of his mind, her kind words and gentle smile floating unbidden to the surface whenever his thoughts began to wander. The hollow sadness he’d felt ever since he discovered her missing from Orcoth’s dungeon was ever present, like she had somehow managed to take a piece of him with her when she’d gone away. His memories of her conjured many emotions, difficult and elusive, which he struggled to identify, an unknown stirring and not altogether unpleasant warmth in his chest that he couldn’t name.

He heaved a frustrated sigh. This didn’t make any sense. It was his destiny to destroy the humans. Lilia was, by all means, his enemy. And yet, no one else had ever really treated him so much like…

Darc flexed his wicked claw among the flickering shadows, brow creasing as his frown deepened.

...Like a _person._

Not as property, not as a king, not as a wild, ruthless enigma to be feared. But as a living being, an individual soul with thoughts and feelings and experiences which she had seemed to make a real effort to understand despite the limitations of her humanity.

And all he had done was yell at her and frighten her like some kind of savage beast. She had saved his life, and he had kept her locked away long after she’d told him all she knew.

...For no other reason, perhaps, than because he was so desperate to keep her. Desperate for her kindness and the strange peace her company provided.

His claw sought the reassurance of his birthmark in his confusion. The entire thing was just stupid. He would never see the girl again, anyway. She would eventually meet her death, whether by Dilzweld’s hand or his own, when he annihilated the humans for good.

Either way, it’s not like she had any reason whatsoever to even _want_ to see him again. She probably hated him.

His chest constricted painfully at the thought.

The small room suddenly brightened as Volk’s hulking form parted the curtains. Darc quickly stowed the ortena out of sight.

“Oh...you’re still awake…” Volk slurred slightly. He lumbered over to the opposite corner and turned down the covers of his bedroll. “Thought you’d be asleep already with the way you ran off like that…”

Darc opened his mouth to respond but the sounds of a muffled dispute bled through the wall to his left.

“Hey! I told you to stay on your own side, old hag!”

“But this _is_ my side! It’s you who’s all sprawled out like a man!”

They listened to the two women bickering for a moment longer before their voices faded again.

Darc merely grunted and stretched out on his bedding, scowling up at the dark ceiling above him. “Just planning how I’m going to take the Water Stone, that’s all…”

He did not miss the sideways glance the Lupine threw at him from the shadows with his good eye.

“Sure...whatever you say…”

Darc offered no response other than to roll toward the wall. He listened to his companion rustling for a few more moments behind him before all was still and quiet, and soon the Lupine’s snores filled the small room.

Darc closed his eyes. Despite his fatigue, he was still very much awake, unable to calm his restless mind. Lilia's gentle smile reappeared in his memory like a waking dream, envisioning every detail of her face.

In the cold, lonely darkness, he held her ortena close.

 

~x~

 

The Coleopt Shrine was indeed, in Camellia’s words, an ancient labyrinth.

The stone passageways were cool and dark after the immense heat of the afternoon sun, the rough hewn floor sloping ever downward as Darc and his companions descended deeper underground. Their hurried footsteps echoed loudly in the eerie silence, torches in iron brackets the only source of light, casting their shadows massively on the walls.

Darc wondered vaguely if he could take the Water Stone without so much as drawing his sword, but voices carrying from below told him he wouldn’t be so lucky. In the second chamber, a half dozen humans in green uniforms entered from a tunnel to the left.

“Humans…” he growled angrily. “Sneaking in like that!”

The commander turned at the sound of his voice.

“A Deimos! There are Deimos here!”

“Move, you blasted humans! The Miracle Stone is mine!”

Darc wasted no time. Before the soldiers could even draw their weapons, he was on them with his blade flashing in a great arc. He felt two blasts of magic on either side of him, equally hot and cold, as Delma and Volk sent spells toward the humans.

“Humans are such pushovers!” Delma stamped her foot in annoyance. “And here I was, looking for a real fight! They’re not even a match for us.”

“Something’s a little off!” Volk said. His one good eye swept over the unconscious bodies at their feet. “I don’t see their alpha anywhere.”

“Maybe...oh, no!” Camellia exclaimed. “Those soldiers were just trying to distract us! The commander’s gone inside!”

“They think they can beat us?” Darc growled. “Let’s go!”

His companions followed him down the passageway until they emerged in another chamber, much larger than the previous one. At the far side of the room was a silver chest upon a stone altar, flanked by towering skeletons. The commander and his remaining foot soldier stood before it.

Darc glanced behind him. Camellia had stopped on the threshold, gasping and clutching at her midsection.

“What are you doing?” he barked. “Hurry! The humans are going to get to the Miracle Stone before we do!

The Pianta sage groaned and sank down onto the floor.

“What is it, Camellia? What can you be doing at such a critical moment?!”

“I-It’s just that…” she gasped. “Suddenly...my stomach...my ulcers…”

Darc scoffed. “What a useless old woman. Rest here!”

Delma and Volk were close on his heels as he sprinted to the altar.

“Wait!” he spat. “I’m not giving the Miracle Stone to any humans!”

The soldiers turned at his words.

“Shut up, Deimos! We’ll be happy to fight you, don’t you worry. After we get the Miracle Stone, that is.”

“Either way...” Volk growled at them. “This is where you die.”

The commander ignored him. He sauntered forward and immediately the stone floor began to glow red. A rumbling sound like an earthquake shook the entire chamber.

“What’s that sound? What happened?”

Delma gasped and ran to the edge of the platform. “The bridge...it’s sinking!”

Darc turned at the dry cackle behind him.

“The Miracle Stone isn’t in there,” Camellia said as she approached them on the other side of the divide. “This isn’t the Throne Room. It’s the Sealed Chamber. The Coleopt Shrine has been a labyrinth from time immemorial.” She cracked a toothless grin. “Without my know-how, you’ll never get to the Throne Room!”

Darc glared at her, hot anger bubbling beneath the surface. Camellia gestured to the chest on the altar.

“Therein lies the strongest, most evil monster ever made, created by the Divine Ruler who betrayed the gods...the ancient monster, Bebedora.” The sage cackled again. “No one can oppose Bebedora. The Miracle Stone is all but mine now!”

She hurried past them as fast as her short legs could carry her and disappeared through an archway at the far corner of the chamber.

Darc watched her go. He felt like a fool.

“Damn you, Camellia!” he spat.

What had he been thinking, to trust her so easily? It was true that they never would have gotten this far without her knowledge. But what did it matter now, if they were about to meet their demise?

The silver chest slowly creaked open. Darc whirled to face the monster, his human hand flying to the hilt of his sword.

Whatever he was expecting could never have prepared him for the small figure that yawned and stretched before turning to face them.

“It’s time to get up already?”

Darc nearly dropped his weapon. _A little girl?_

“What the hell?” Delma exclaimed. “That’s the strongest, most evil monster? What a disappointment.”

Volk glanced at Darc. “I guess even Camellia can’t be right all the time.”

“I’m Bebedora,” the girl said. She pulled on her head, which bobbed at them like a bizarre greeting. “Who are you?”

Darc considered her carefully. There was something different about this girl, some power which did not immediately meet the eye. He glanced at Volk.

“Be on your guard.”

“Now look, I don’t care if you are just a little girl!” the Dilzweld commander said. “We’ll do anything to get the Miracle Stone. Get rid of anything in our way!”

“Are you enemies?” Bebedora asked. “I have to destroy enemies.” She curtsied and giggled darkly.

The commander suddenly went rigid, his entire body moving in a very unnatural way. It took Darc a moment to realize he was under Bebedora’s control.

“You’re a puppet,” the girl informed him innocently. “You are my servant.”

The foot soldier dodged forward. “Are you all right, sir?”

He, too, immediately fell under Bebedora’s spell. Slowly, they turned their weapons on the Deimos.

“They’re acting really strange,” Darc said, drawing his sword. “Be careful!”

The soldiers fell in one blow. Darc lifted his gaze to the little girl again. Though it was now obvious she possessed psychic powers, her pawns were weak.

“My puppets...they broke,” she said. “People break easily. My next puppets will be sturdier.”

 _Next puppets?_ Darc raised his sword. If either him or his companions fell under her control, they were in big trouble.

The two skeletons beside the altar came alive and leapt off their pedestals. Darc cast Tornado, unwilling to get closed to their massive flailing limbs. Volk and Delma followed his example, casting their strongest magic. In short order, their adversaries dropped to the floor in a pile of bones.

“She’s all that’s left,” Delma said, glaring at the little girl.

Volk stepped forward. “I’ll get her.”

“Wait! Don’t get too close.”

The Lupine turned to him. “What is there to be afraid of? She just...gives orders, that’s all. She can’t be that strong.”

“Mess this up and she’ll be controlling us, too. Just like those humans.” Darc looked up at the figure watching them silently from above. “Let me talk to her.”

He sheathed his sword and cautiously moved to stand before the altar.

“Bebedora, you said?” He would have felt ridiculous addressing the little girl in such a formal way, had he not known she was anything but. “We’re not the humans who disturbed your rest. We’re Deimos, just like you.”

Bebedora gazed down at him. Or, so Darc assumed, considering her eyes were concealed by her hat.

“Just like me…? Deimos?” The girl seemed confused. “What’s a Deimos? I’m Bebedora. A monster made by the Divine Ruler.” She hesitated. “You’re not enemies?”

“We just came here for the Miracle Stone. We have no intention of fighting you. Please let us leave.”

Bebedora was quiet for a long moment.

“Your soul...is the color of the clear blue sky. No lies there.” She gestured to a large stone lever on the wall. “Push that if you want to leave.”

Darc glanced over his shoulder. “That, eh? I understand.” He looked up into her colorless face again. “Thank you.”

Bebedora stared down at him without speaking for a moment longer. Darc had the peculiar feeling that she was reading his thoughts.

“A mysterious soul. Flickering colors. Swirling shades. Lots of lights. You’re different from monsters. Different from humans, too. Monsters don’t speak. Humans do. But you’re not human. Are you really a Deimos? Are all Deimos like you?”

Darc hesitated, uncomfortable with her candid analysis of him.

“What do you mean? I’m Darc. He who will be king of the Deimos! Whether I’m a Deimos or a human...it doesn’t matter at all!”

Bebedora giggled her sinister little laugh again. “But you don’t think that.”

Darc said nothing, too disturbed by her honest assessment to give voice to his thoughts.

Delma stepped forward. “Darc! Let’s get out of here. She gives me the creeps.”

Before he could so much as move an inch, Bebedora spoke again.

“Are you Deimos?” she asked, looking at Delma and Volk in turn. “The fire of battle burns within your souls. Scarlet flames, pale tongues of fire. Vivid yet simple colors.”

Darc felt her gaze come to rest on him again.

“Not like Darc. Only Darc is different. Why? Strange. Not a Deimos. Not a human. Who are you? _What_ are you? I don’t know.”

Darc gripped his birthmark. As bizarre as it felt to have his own feelings accurately described to him and in such detail by this little girl he had only just met, there was something in the truth of her words that piqued his curiosity.

At the same time, he wasn’t too certain he wanted to be made aware of everything she could see.

“Don’t worry about it, Darc,” Volk said, obviously sensing his disquiet. “Just push that thing over there and get us out of here!”

Darc went over to the wall and pressed on the tile. It sank into the solid stone, and the water surrounding the platform rapidly drained away.

Delma suddenly called his name. Darc turned to see Bebedora standing between the two Deimos in front of the altar. Her full skirt flounced as she walked toward him.

“I’ve decided,” she said with a curtsy. “I’m coming with you. I want to see more of your soul.”

“What? My soul?” Darc exclaimed.

“The great power within commands me. I am to be your puppet.”

Darc considered her for a moment.

“So you’ll follow me?”

“We ought to leave this oddball behind,” Delma cut it. “We have no idea what’s going through her...mind.”

“But she’ll be better in battle than Camellia,” Volk reasoned. “We could really use her puppet master skills.” He looked to his leader. “Well, Darc?”

“The way she can control people...definitely useful.” He turned to the little girl. “All right. Bebedora, you may come with us if you wish. Now you serve me!”

Bebedora curtsied once more. “I am Bebedora. Your puppet. I control and am controlled. You are Darc. My master. You control and are controlled.”

Delma scuffed the stone floor with her foot. “Man! Another weirdo in the group!”

Darc made his way toward the stairs, Bebedora trailing silently along behind him.

“I wouldn’t talk…” Volk muttered, following after them.

“What did you just say?” Delma shouted at his retreating back. “Care to say it a little louder?”

The Lupine chuckled. “Didn’t you wanna kill Darc?”

“Oh, shut up…” the Orcon girl said, scuffing the floor again. “Who understands anyone, anyway? I’m not like Bebedora. I have an actual goal…”

Darc halted at the top of the stairs. “What are you mumbling about?” he snapped. “Come on!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Delma sighed and ran to catch up with them.

Darc returned his attention on the task at hand. Surely the Water Stone was in the next chamber. Whether Camellia had already claimed it or not was of little consequence to him now. He would take it from her by force if he must. And then he would make her pay for her betrayal…

He nearly tripped over a loose tile laying in the middle of the floor. Temper rising, he was about to kick it out of his way when he noticed words inscribed upon its weathered face.

Darc stooped and lifted the flat stone in his hands. It wasn’t a loose tile at all, he realized with a jolt, but one of the ancient tablets Kirjath had told him about.

“ _Will there be a wind strong enough to fly and to carry me?_ ” he recited slowly under his breath. “ _And will there be a wave from across the sea to cool me? The eyes of hope shine before me in the fire…_ ”

Darc remained very still and frowned at the carved lettering.

“Wind, water, fire…” he murmured, turning the tablet over in his hands. “Does this have something to do with the Five Great Spirits? Or is it…”

He contemplated the words again, his memory struggling to recall something. He moved to touch his birthmark, deep in thought.

“I could swear I’ve heard these words before.”

“Darc!” Volk called to him from the far corner of the chamber. “The Water Stone!”

Darc tucked the tablet away and ran to join his companions. He couldn’t worry about it now.

Without a backward glance, they entered the Throne Room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being patient for this chapter! There's been a lot of real life crap keeping me away from writing lately but I'm updating whenever I can.
> 
> Also thanks to everyone who have been leaving kudos! Your support is very much appreciated. I can't believe so many people have taken an interest in this story already.


	7. Chapter 7

Darc assessed his position from the center of the chamber while the chaos of battle raged on all sides of him. He had moved forward past the flailing tentacles, fending off Coleopt soldiers in the hope of glimpsing where the Water Stone might be hidden. Flashes of light from his companions’ magic flickered in his periphery, blinding bursts of color that flung vast shadows across the wall.

“Darc, look out!” Delma’s voice echoed from the other end of the room.

The Coleopt queen’s spell slammed into his chest, a sudden powerful vortex knocking him backward, winding him. Darc fought to stay on his feet. It wasn’t often his concentration faltered in battle. He was about to cast his own healing spell when he felt a different soothing magic like a rainstorm from above.

“You okay, Master Darc?” Camellia called from behind him, brandishing the stem of her dart gun.

So the Pianta sage had decided to join them in battle after all, he thought as one of Bebedora’s mind-controlled puppets stumped clumsily by. He assumed she had hidden behind the many Coleopt eggs, waiting for her chance to steal the Water Stone while he did all the dirty work. Concealing his surprise, he nodded to her in gratitude before summoning a windstorm and hurling it the other way.

Darc crept forward, casting Tornado at every opportunity, taking advantage of the long reach of his magic. When he was finally within melee range he laid his sword into the queen’s massive exoskeleton, Volk dodging forward to help with his axe held high. A brilliant blast of flames erupted from his left, and the huge insect slumped over, her corpse rapidly disintegrating into thin air. 

All was quiet in the stone chamber. As the dust cleared and the glittering remains of their magic faded in the gloom, Darc approached a small sapphire glint at the top of the stairs. His footsteps echoed eerily in the silence.

“We have nothing to be afraid of if we just work together,” Camellia’s withered old voice rasped behind him.

“What do you mean, work together?!” Delma snapped, stamping her foot. “Don’t think we’ve actually forgiven you yet!”

“Traitors must be punished!” Volk growled. 

“N-No, wait! I scouted out this room expressly for Darc.”

Bebedora giggled. “Pointless floundering. It’s great. Leaden lies. Tan-colored temporary desperation. And finally? Black, black despair. Everything...returns to the darkness.”

“This has nothing to do with you!” Camellia exclaimed. “You keep out of this! Who are you, anyway?”

“I am Bebedora,” the girl said in her strange monotone. “Darc’s servant.”

“What? Aren’t you the strongest, most evil monster?!”

“That’s right,” Delma snapped. “And unlike you, she really is fighting on our side.”

“Are you ready, Camellia?” the Lupine growled, toying with the handle of his axe.

The Pianta sage yelped and backed away. “Darc! Forgive me, I beg you!”

Darc had barely heard their conversation. The Water Stone gleamed brightly in his hand, full and whole unlike his Wind Stone, pulsing every now and then with a mysterious power.

“I knew it...make no mistake…” he said, more to himself than to his companions. “This...is a Great Spirit Stone!”

“Uh, Darc?” Camellia called timidly.

“Darc, what are you doing?” Delma asked impatiently. “Aren’t you going to take care of this old bag?”

Darc ignored them. A sudden noise like a tinkling bell drew his attention and he lifted his gaze to find a spectral figure materializing before him.

_...Listen to the voice of the Spirits…O Chosen One… _

Darc remained quite still, listening intently. He was very aware of the weight of the stone in his hand, could feel its incredible power trapped just beneath the surface.

_...I am the Water Spirit...You must not fight...Nothing comes of fighting...Hatred doesn’t solve a thing...You must not fill the world...with negative intentions...with negative emotions...Save the world...from the intruding darkness… _

The Spirit faded, its ethereal voice echoing around the chamber. Darc scowled.

“Was that...a Spirit?” Volk said in the ensuing silence, unable to conceal the awe in his tone.

“Spir...it?” Delma asked.

“You don’t know about Spirits?” Camellia exclaimed. “Not even about the five Great Spirits of Earth, Water, Fire, Wind, and Light? All living beings are blessed by the fruits of the Spirits! You don’t know about the Spirits whose great power protects and defends this world?”

Delma stared dumbfounded at her. Camellia cackled at her ignorance.

“It was the Spirits who put their power into the Spirit Stones before they vanished from this world! We can use magic because of the Spirits! And you don’t know anything about them?!”

“I-I knew that much!” Delma stuttered, stamping her foot again in annoyance. “I mean, who doesn’t? I’ve just never seen one before, so I wanted to make sure!”

“Spirits…” Bebedora echoed. “Are they...my enemies?”

Darc tucked the Water Stone away, silently contemplating the Spirit’s words.

“Nothing comes of fighting, eh?” he scoffed. “Hatred doesn’t solve a thing, eh? Sounds like something Lilia would say.”

That strange warmth again, stirring insistently in his chest. He gripped at his birthmark.

“I don’t plan on falling for that Spirit nonsense!” he said, turning to his companions. “Relax and you’re betrayed…” he glared at Camellia, who carefully avoided his eyes. “Let your guard down and you’re stabbed in the back…” He shifted his gaze to Delma. “That’s what being a Deimos is all about. I don’t need anything but power! I’ll save the Deimos, and I’ll use strife and hatred to do it!”

He clenched his fist, willing himself to believe the conviction in his own words. “All I want...is power!”

 

~x~

 

Lilia gazed absently at the metal pipes spanning the room’s ceiling above her head. She had spent the entire day searching for some method of escape, but the heavy metal door was sealed shut and she could find no other potential exits in the small cabin.

Despair crept at the edges of her mind. Even if she were able to leave the prison room, she had no way of departing the Megist. Not during mid-flight, anyway. The Dilzweld would surely discover her missing and it would only be a matter of time before she was found. And even then, she had no clue as to when or where the airship would land…

Lilia sighed and allowed her eyes to gently close. She would not become part of Darkham’s plan - whatever it was. There had to be some way out, somehow… 

If only she had her ortena. Tatjana must have taken it along with the Light Stone during her capture. Many long, lonely nights had her beautiful instrument and sacred stone brought her comfort and peace beneath the stars. Without those two most beloved possessions, she felt utterly naked. The chance of ever seeing either of them again, she realized sadly, was quite slim. 

She wished she knew the time, at least. The room was windowless, depriving her of any connection with the outside world, but she guessed it must be very late in the evening. It had been a while since the guard brought her dinner, which she had not bothered to touch. Her stomach grumbled hollowly, but restless anxiety over her situation and the unknown destination to which she was traveling did nothing to inspire her appetite. Nor did she entirely trust the Dilzweld wouldn’t covertly drug her again if given the opportunity.

Her thoughts wandered. All hope of reaching Cathena were now certainly dashed. Perhaps Kharg and his companions had decided to meet up with her at the World Alliance and spoken to the assembly on her behalf. That would do little to help her current predicament, but at least someone might know she had been captured by Dilzweld. 

Besides Darc, anyway. For she had little doubt that he was aware of what had transpired. Whether he cared or not was another story. She had proven herself to be quite useless to him. 

Often she found he occupied her thoughts during the long, tedious hours she had been locked inside the cabin. It was strange, but she felt they shared an odd connection despite their glaring differences. Perhaps it was because he could hear the voices of the Spirits just the same as she, or because from what little he had shared about himself, she knew they had both suffered similar loss.

But thinking about Darc was also accompanied by a soft, tender feeling she couldn’t quite place. Perhaps it was because she felt bad for him - maybe even pitied him - if what Zoram and Zugalo had told her was indeed true.

Lilia became quite suddenly aware of the silence inside the cabin. The Megist’s engines had stopped. She sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the cot, and listened closely. 

Footsteps.

The heavy steel-plated door slid open.

“You! Let’s go! On your feet, move it!”

Lilia stared nervously at the commander, unmoving from her perch.

“I said  _ let’s go.  _ NOW!”

He drew his pistol. Lilia shakily rose to her feet.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Just shut up and do as you’re told. In the hallway now, quickly.”

Lilia silently followed his orders. She crossed the threshold with the commander’s gun still aimed at her, and immediately froze with her hands in the air. A half dozen rifles were trained on her, each one pointed at her heart.

“You would do well to comply with my wishes, Lilia Wyse.”

Lilia tore her eyes away from the guns at the sinister tone just long enough to find the speaker, fighting the panic rising in her throat. Darkham was waiting at the end of the hall, flanked by his shrouded guards. Lilia shivered at the sight of their hooded and cowled faces.

The soldiers began pressing forward.

“Move it!” the commander barked.

Lilia tried to quell the tremors shaking her entire body as she placed one foot in front of the other, feeling oddly detached from her surroundings. This was infinitely worse than being locked up in Darc’s dungeon. At least he had never brandished a weapon at her.

They emerged through a doorway, and Lilia suddenly found herself outside. It was night, the stars obscured by an odd haze. A pungent odor of sulfur lingered heavily on the air.

“Come on! Quickly!”

Darkham and his guards led the way up a sharp gravel incline. Trees pressed thickly on either side of them, muffling any sound that could give Lilia a clue as to where they had landed.

“Lord Darkham! We have little time!”

“You think I don’t know that?” the emporer snarled. “I lost contact with Tatjana hours ago. We must be quick. Those brats will hand over the Fire Stone. I will make absolutely certain of that.”

_ Fire Stone?  _ Lilia thought distractedly as she stumbled forward, forced to walk faster by the muzzles of the soldier’s rifles at her back.

They rounded a turn in the path, and bright lights came into view, so bright it nearly looked like daylight.

“Oh…!”

Lilia halted in her shock. A massive volcano loomed above them.

The cold metal snout of a rifle pressed roughly between her shoulder blades.

“Come on, move - ”

The rest of the commander’s orders were drowned out by a loud, deep rumbling sound. Before she could take another step, the earth began to shake violently.

Lilia gasped. She was aware of the soldiers yelling around her, but she was too busy struggling to remain upright to make any sense of their words. For a split second she considered making a break for it in the confusion, if not for the paralyzing fear of being shot dead.

“Move it, you stupid bitch!”

The commander pushed her roughly toward a metal ramp before the earthquake had completely subsided. She stumbled, the force of his shove carrying her forward until she fell to her hands and knees.

“Get up!” the commander spat, and when she did not immediately regain her footing he seized her by the elbow and hauled her up, dragging her along beside him.

His hold around her arm was like a vice. Lilia could feel her hand going numb at the loss of circulation, but she made no sound nor sign of protest, for the commander had placed his pistol against the side of her neck. She was very aware of her rapid pulse pounding against the cold, smooth metal while she allowed herself to be led into the mountain’s stronghold, praying silently for the Spirits’ protection.

Entering the volcano was like stepping into a furnace. Lilia choked on the thick fumes, the heat nearly intolerable as they descended deeper, terrified the mountain would erupt at any moment while they were still inside. The gritty, sulfuric air stung her eyes as she was forced to run, blinding her as she tripped over uneven ground.

There were voices up ahead. The commander suddenly halted and held her fast.

“You’re the Dilzweld emporer…!”

She knew that voice. Or so she thought, as she coughed fitfully. But why here, of all places?

“Don’t move,” came Darkham’s snide remark. “Not unless you want your friend to be dropped into the lava.”

Lilia rubbed her eyes and peered over the ledge where they were standing. A slow-moving river of hot magma bubbled just beneath them, shimmering in the intense heat. 

“Let me go!” she cried, tugging her arm pointlessly in the commander’s grasp.

“Lilia!”

She turned, twisting, to see Kharg’s pale, frightened face appear at the edge of the platform above her. What he was doing there she had not the faintest idea. She called back to him, relieved to at least see her friend alive and well.

“The volcano will erupt soon,” Darkham continued. “We don’t have time for idle chatter. If you value Lilia’s life, you’ll hand over the Fire Stone. If you don’t, she will plunge to her death before your very eyes.”

Of course, Lilia thought. Kharg must have come for the Fire Stone before the Dilzweld could get to it. He was trying to prevent another Great Spirit Stone from falling into Darkham’s possession.

_ Just like Darc. _

Except Kharg harbored none of Darc’s personal ambitions, as far as she knew.

“Don’t listen to him, Kharg! He’s the last person you should give the stone to!”

The commander’s hand tightened painfully around her arm and he shook her violently. “Shut up!”

There were other voices above her, some she recognized, but could not see who they belonged to. She heard fragments of a discussion, dissociated words she didn’t have the strength to understand. Her energy was draining rapidly in the heat and she began to sway dizzily even in the commander’s grasp.

Darkham and his guards descended a primitive flight of wooden stairs and moved out of sight. Lilia watched them through lidded eyes, uncertain of what exactly was happening. The commander dragged her over to a rickety footbridge.

“What…?”

Kharg appeared across from her on the other side.

“Now, let Lilia go!” he called to the commander.

“Kharg! Don’t give up the Fire Stone!”

She didn’t know if he was able to hear her, weak as she had become, but saving the world from Darkham’s evil plans was much more important than her own life. 

She closed her eyes tightly.  _ Spirits...protect me...I beg of you… _

“I told you to shut up!” the commander barked behind her.

“First give me the Fire Stone!” came Darkham’s voice from below. “Throw it to me from there. I’ll free Lilia once I’m sure it’s the real thing.”

“No, free Lilia first!”

“She’s of no use to me anymore. She’ll go free as soon as I have the Fire Stone.”

Kharg went to the ledge. Lilia heard something clatter on the stone floor and her heart sank.

“This is it. No question.”

“Now it’s your turn!” Kharg shouted. “Let Lilia go!”

He approached the bridge once more.

There was a blast and a blinding flash of light, and Lilia was suddenly being whisked away from the explosion. The commander dragged her along behind him and they were running...running...and Lilia could no longer see at all.

 

~x~

 

Darc spoke little during their long return trek back to Rueloon in the dusky twilight. Much occupied his mind beneath the bright stars as he considered his next course of action, many of his thoughts unrelated to the quest at hand. His companions were likewise close-lipped as Camellia trailed behind them, still angered by her betrayal. Even Delma had fallen silent, abandoning her torrent of verbal abuse she’d earlier hurled at the sage.

“Please, Darc!” Camellia implored when they reached the city at last. Darc hesitated before turning to the old woman. “I know it wasn’t much, but I did help you defeat Selkis.” She fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable with his eyes on her. “So I was thinking...Isn’t it about time you forgave me?”

Darc lowered his gaze to the ancient street. He was still angry with her, but there was an odd feeling which had stayed his hand from his weapon all afternoon despite Volk and Delma’s threats of revenge. Something that softened the sharp edges of his rage and molded it into a shape more akin to disappointment. Wordlessly, he moved to touch his birthmark.

“Oh, shut up and go away!” Delma snapped. “You think Darc’ll forgive a rotten traitor like you?”

“Hey, Darc?” Volk said beside him, his tone one of feigned innocence. “Delma seems to think you shouldn’t forgive people who betray you.”  

“Wh-What?!” Delma exclaimed. “B-but in my case, I, uh...Darc said it was all right! So there!” She looked sheepishly toward him.

Darc was quiet.

“You can stop acting all high and mighty any time now, hear?” She rounded on Camellia again, as if to take the focus off herself.

“I’d rather be high and mighty than nasty like you!” the sage retorted.

“Who are you calling ‘nasty’? You walnut-faced crone!”

Darc gasped as his battle instincts suddenly flared. He looked toward the columns flanking the city gates, certain they were being watched. 

“What is it, Darc?” Volk asked.

Darc scanned the entrance to the city again, but he saw no trace of anyone there. “I just sensed deep bloodlust.” He lowered his eyes again, increasingly troubled by his recent internal state. “Maybe I was just imagining things…”

“You’re tired, that’s all,” the Lupine reassured him “So much has happened. Maybe we should rest a while.”

“That’s right!” Camellia cut in. “I’m absolutely exhausted. Let me rest, please.”

“No one asked you!” Delma snapped. “If you wanna take a break, do it!”

Camellia chuckled mirthlessly. “I certainly didn’t ask you, either. I was talking to Darc. Being presumptuous doesn’t suit you, dearie.”

“What?! Care to say that again?”

“Oooh, I’m so afraid!” the sage taunted. “You see why it’s so hard to handle such a bothersome demon-girl?”

“That does it! You’re dead!”

“Deep red anger,” Bebedora blurted out of the blue, speaking for the first time since they left the shrine. “A violet superiority complex. Except for Darc, Deimos are so...simple.”

“Everyone’s tired,” Volk said, glancing at his leader. His tone was casual but firm, as if to end any further argument on Darc’s behalf. “How about we stay here until we decide on our next course of action? There’s an arena here in Rueloon, too. It might not be a bad idea to conserve our strength as we relax and rejuvenate.”

“Good advice, Volk. I’m with you,” Darc agreed. He quite suddenly felt very weary. “Everyone, you’re free to do as you please.”

He watched as his companions went their separate ways for the evening. Finally, he could be alone with his thoughts again.

It had grown quite late. Rueloon was peaceful in the balmy night air. The distant sounds from the arena were noticeably absent, apparently closed until morning. 

Darc wandered the old streets, slowly making his way back to the inn. As much as he craved the quiet solitude of their lodgings, his troubled feelings had once again returned.

He traced the carved instrument hidden in the sash of his kilt with the thumb of his human hand.

For even still he could not get her out of his mind...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who's been reading and leaving kudos! I'm trying not to leave you all hanging too long but I know 4 weeks between chapters isn't too ideal. I'm currently in the process of moving and looking for a new job, but I'm still writing whenever I have a few hours here and there. I really love writing this story and I really hope you all love reading it!


	8. Chapter 8

Darc jerked awake. Something was very wrong. He could sense it.

His clawed hand tightened around Lilia’s ortena clutched close to his chest. The small room was much too quiet. He shifted onto his back, listening intently. It must be very late, for even the hum of chatter which had lulled him to sleep had faded from the bar upstairs. 

The bedroll along the opposite wall was empty. Darc frowned. Volk was quite difficult to wake once the Lupine was asleep. What could have lured his companion from his slumber, he could only guess.

It was then he realized that the Water Stone’s mysterious aura was missing. He reached under his pillow and found the Wind Stone where he had left it. But where the other stone should have been, his human hand closed over air.

Darc sat up, blood coming to a furious boil. He was a damned fool for trusting anyone! Volk had appeared loyal to him ever since their duel in Orcoth and had become his single closest ally. Or so he thought.

After all the backstabbing he’d endured, it wouldn’t be a surprise.

Darc snatched up his sword and tucked the Wind Stone and Lilia’s ortena safely away before ripping back the gauzy curtains.

“...Alright, who did it?!” he barked to the vacant lobby. The Balar at the desk gave him a reproachful look. “Who’s been messing with me, and where is he?”

Delma and Bebedora emerged from the room next door.

“Why all the shouting, Darc?” Delma yawned.

“Darc’s soul…” Bebedora commented in her detached monotone. “...deep red anger.”

“What’s going on?” Volk asked as he descended the stairs from the bar.

Darc turned his glare on him.

“Someone stole the Water Stone while I was sleeping!” 

His companions jumped, and from their spontaneous reactions alone, Darc knew immediately that none of them were the guilty party.

“What?!” Delma exclaimed. “Who?”

“Where’s Camellia?” Darc growled, rage building so rapidly his hands began to tremble.

“She’s not in the room!”

“She said she couldn’t sleep,” Volk offered. “Last I saw her, she was wandering around.”

Bebedora took a few steps toward the exit. “Camellia’s soul...a trace still remains.” She turned to face Darc again. “It leads outside...happy.”

“Damn that hag!” Delma said. “I knew this would happen. Let’s look for her!”

His companions dashed from the inn.

“That blasted Camellia!” he growled as he followed after them. “Once wasn’t enough for you, eh? You had to betray me twice! Inexcusable!”

The streets were empty. Darc confirmed with a glance toward the Quorup’s market that the sage must be hiding elsewhere. He headed toward the arena.

“Just you wait, Camellia…” he snarled to the balmy air. “You’ll wish you’d never been born!”

A terrified scream pierced the night just as Darc entered the ancient ruin. In the dim light of the flickering torches, he saw five winged creatures on the crumbling staircase opposite, silhouetted against the sky.

“Camellia!” he called, anger temporarily subdued. His eyes adjusted to the wavering shadows. “And...Drakyr?!”

A deep, ominous laugh rumbled across the arena toward him.

“Good work, you old Pianta hag! Now that you’ve brought me the Water Stone, you saved me the trouble of having to fight for it!”

_ Brought him the Water Stone? _ Darc thought. Since when was Camellia in league with the Drakyr?

Or had she been all along? Had she betrayed him at the shrine at their bidding?

Camellia hurried up the steps as fast as her squat build would allow. “Th-that’s mine! What do the Drakyr need the Water Stone for anyway? Give it back!”

“Shut your mouth!” the gruff voice said.

Darc descended to the arena floor, a new fury rising in his chest. _Damn these Drakyr..._

“Camellia! What happened?”

The sage turned to face him, relief spreading temporarily over her withered old features.

“Oh, Darc…!” She ran toward him in near hysterics. “Help me, oh, help me! They’ve done...terrible things…”

“Darc! Here you are.”

His companions joined them at the foot of the stairs. Delma took one look at the Drakyr assembled before the massive burning torch on the other side of the arena and stamped her foot in annoyance.

“What’s going on? Why are those Drakyr here?” She cut her eyes at Camellia, heavy with dislike. “What happened to the Water Stone?”

“They...took my Water Stone…” Camellia sobbed.

“What - what - WHAT?” Delma exclaimed in outrage. “Now it’s YOUR Water Stone?!”

“You don’t have to get so angry. It was just an itsy-bitsy slip of the tongue. No use fussing over something like that!”

“Guess my true feelings just sort of spilled out,” Delma grumbled. “You sticky-fingered old coot!”

The sound of massive wings approaching drew Darc’s attention. A giant figure, larger than any Deimos he had ever seen, flew across the empty arena before alighting on the ground before him.

This creature was no Drakyr at all, Darc realized as the bizarre Deimos stalked toward him. He appeared to be half Drakyr and some unknown horse Deimos, or so he guessed. Was he mixed, perhaps, like himself?

Darc’s human hand gripped the hilt of his sword when the creature spoke.

“If it isn’t Darc!” he sneered. “I must thank you for delivering the Water Stone so promptly. I expect you’ll be as accommodating with your Wind Stone as well, yes?”

“Knock off the sarcasm!” Darc spat as he stepped forward. The Deimos towered above him, nearly twice his height. “The Wind Stone is mine. I won’t give it up that easily, especially not to the likes of you! And, of course...I’ll be taking the Water Stone back, too.”

“It seems you have some idea of how valuable the Great Spirit Stones are,” the Deimos mused.

“Yes, and I also know that I’m gonna be the one who gets to use their infinite power,” Darc growled in return.

The strange Deimos chuckled humorlessly at his words. “Infinite power...So you know the secret of the Great Spirit Stones, I see. The very key to Deimos evolution! When all five stones are gathered together, an awesome infinite power is born.” He considered Darc for a moment, his cold, black eyes scanning his half-human body in disgust. “But what will the radiance of that power bring us Deimos? Do you have any idea?”

“What do you mean?” Darc said through grit teeth.

The Deimos laughed at him again. “You have no clue. Good. You don’t need to know.” He drew himself up to his full impressive height, spreading his wings broadly on either side of him. “After all, the future Deimos King...the leader of all Deimos...will be none other than I, Droguza!”

“Not if I can help it!” Darc snapped. He drew his sword as the other Drakyr descended the stairs toward him. This creature, this Deimos, intended to do battle with him, he knew.

Droguza attacked without warning, swiping with a deadly set of steel-plated claws. Darc dodged and immediately cast Tornado. He couldn’t waste time with this guy, no matter how curious he might be about his motives and sudden appearance. His companions’ magic illuminated the night before he could bark an order to them, sparkling in brilliant bursts of elemental color.

“So the Deimos wannabe wants to be Deimos King now?” Droguza taunted. “Do you really think you’re up to something like that?”

“To a Deimos, strength is everything,” Darc growled back at him. “I’ll be stronger than anyone! And when I am, I’ll bring all the Deimos together, unite them. I won’t let anyone stand in my way!”

Droguza chuckled darkly. “So that’s why you’re after the Great Spirit Stones, huh? Well, you’re out of luck! The infinite power of the spirits will be mine!”

Darc swiftly dodged his adversary’s claws. “Never!” 

To their advantage, Droguza was relatively slow; his great frame made his movements somewhat awkward and cumbersome. Darc could read his attacks, staying well out of range of his huge talons. His Drakyr henchmen were comparatively weak, and Volk took them out with only a few swings of his giant axe.

The moment Darc was able to position himself behind the massive Deimos, he seized the opportunity and plunged his sword into his broad back, ripping the blade violently downward before yanking it free. Stangely, Droguza did not scream, nor made any utterance of pain whatsoever. He only swayed for a moment, then fell heavily to his knees.

“I never imagined it possible…” he gasped. 

Darc stepped forward. “You’re the only one left. Now hand over the Water Stone. Or else…”

“Or else what?” Droguza sneered. Even defeated, he still had enough gall to mock him. “Heh heh heh...poor Darc. What an insipid fool you are. You should have learned that cornered prey is the most dangerous.”

Darc narrowed his eyes at his words. “What?”

“Give them a chance...and they’ll strike!”

Before Darc could reply, a bright flash of blue light erupted from Droguza’s body and he spread his wings, soaring into the air.

“Droguza, wait!” Darc called after him, spots dancing in his vision.

“Darc! I won’t soon forget that name,” came Droguza’s deep voice from somewhere above. “But don’t be overproud! You have the strength of your companions alone to thank for today’s victory. Without them, you would be but a frightened little newt before me. Consider this advice from a kindred spirit...Trust no one! Doubt your friends! And never take your hand from your weapon! The only thing to believe in is your own power.”

He laughed darkly and then, with the heavy beating of wings, his voice faded into the night.

“What manner of Deimos was that?”

“I’ve wandered all through this world…” Volk growled. “But I’ve never seen a Deimos like him.”

“Neither have I,” Camellia said quietly. “Maybe he’s from some far-off land?”

Darc lowered his gaze to the ancient stone floor. Droguza’s parting words echoed in his head. Despite their battle, he couldn’t help but notice how similar they were. 

Droguza’s words...they reflected his very same beliefs.

People could never be trusted, no doubt about that. Nor was it safe to allow himself to grow close to another living creature, for they always took whatever they were able to steal from him and then abandoned him when he had nothing more to give. If they didn’t try to kill him first, that is.

He had realized, the day he killed Geedo and Densimo, that his own power was the only thing that mattered. For without it, he was at the mercy of others - to his own detriment. If history were to repeat itself indefinitely, everyone he knew had an ulterior motive. Everyone he met was intent on destroying him unless he overpowered them first.

Everyone, except...

“Even still…” Camellia’s raspy voice interrupted his thoughts. “If things really will happen as he says they will...the Drakyr are in for real trouble!”

“No one asked you!” Delma snapped. 

“Cold, steel-blue ambition,” came Bebedora’s monotone from behind them. “A carefully divided soul. Too well-prepared and unnatural...How dull.”

Darc turned to her. “Are you talking about Droguza?” he asked curiously. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know, so I know. I am a mirror. A mirror that reflects the soul. I reflect everything, for I am transparent. I am a container. A container full of emotion. I am full of everything, for I am empty.”

Darc was quiet. Nothing the little girl ever said was rational or comprehensible in any way, and yet...sometimes he felt like he almost understood her. 

“Don’t worry about her,” Delma sighed impatiently. “She never makes any sense, anyway. What’s more important is what we should do next! The Water Stone we worked so hard for has been stolen from us...We can’t just let that happen!”

“We must go after him and get that Water Stone back!” Camellia nodded sagely. 

“You keep your mouth shut!” Delma snapped.

Camellia ran to Darc’s side and grasped the hem of his kilt with her twig-like arms. “I-it’s not my fault! H-help me…!”

“Of course it’s your fault!” Delma snarled. “It’s all your fault! How could it not be?!”

“Wait, Delma,” Darc warned. “Her knowledge might still be worth something.”

“Ha! How can any nonsense from this old bag help us at all?”

“That’s for me to decide.”

“I guess you don’t mind being betrayed over and over again! We ought to put her out of her misery!”

Camellia let out a terrified squeak and clung more tightly to Darc’s kilt. “Darc, please! Help me!”

Darc frowned at her. An odd feeling overcame him, quite different from his previous anger. It was something different, a feeling more melancholy, disappointed and sad. 

Something like forgiveness. 

How strange.

He touched his birthmark, avoiding the eyes of his companions. He remembered clearly what it had been like to exact revenge, to kill his traitors in cold blood, and how frighteningly enraged and uncontrollable he’d become in that moment. Brutality was something he had always aspired to, if for no other reason than to prove that he could do it, but he’d been thoroughly unprepared for how truly awful it felt.

“I...I don’t wanna kill traitors anymore. Densimo was the first and last for me.”

He could feel Delma’s astonished gaze. Volk shifted but remained likewise speechless.

“We’re done for tonight, anyway. We’ll leave tomorrow morning. You’re free until then.”

“I haven’t forgiven you yet!” Delma shot at Camellia before turning to climb the stairs.

“I never asked you to forgive me in the first place!” the Pianta sage called after her retreating back.

Darc remained silent, uninterested in their petty squabble. His companions departed, leaving him standing alone in the empty arena.

All was quiet except for the crackling torches. Darc reached into his pocket and withdrew the Wind Stone.

So the Drakyr were after the other Great Spirit Stones as well. No doubt they would continue to pursue him. He clenched his fist. There was something much more to their plot than he had at first anticipated. Had this Deimos, this creature, Droguza, taken over leadership of the Drakyr tribe in the wake of his father’s death?

And Droguza knew about him...knew of his wishes and his uncertainties, his experiences with betrayal and his inability to trust. How could this adversary already know so much about him, when he, Darc, had only just met him?

He gazed at the Wind Stone in his hand. Now he knew for sure that this indeed was only half; the Water Stone had been twice its size, a perfect sphere. Lilia’s words had suggested as much. Perhaps, then, there really was another half...somewhere…

His insides squirmed uncomfortably and he shook his head. Nonsense. The human girl had no proof of anything. How would she know, anyway?

Darc slowly climbed the steps to the plaza. He was still too keyed up to even try to sleep now. He wandered the quiet streets a bit, considering where they should head tomorrow.

He halted at the entrance to the marketplace. Bebedora was staring silently into a dark alleyway next to the Quorup’s item shop. She turned to him before he could ask her what she was doing, as if she had merely sensed his curiosity.

“Volk went in here,” she explained. “His soul was steeped in...many colors.” She stared up at him for a moment longer. “Everyone’s getting...complex. Like you.”

Darc decided he didn’t want to hear her elaborate on that and deftly sidestepped her into the narrow alley. At the far end of the passage, he could just discern the Lupine’s hulking form among the shadows.

“Oh, it’s you,” Volk said when he came to stand beside him. “I was just thinking of something that happened in the past.”

He went quiet for a moment. Darc looked out over the entrance to the city, waiting for his companion to continue.

“I was at a complete loss after humans killed my wife and son. If the Great Spirit Stones could bring people back to life...I might have secretly taken it for myself...like Camellia did.”

Darc shifted his gaze to his mismatched hands. He understood. All too well. If he had known about the stones back then...if they could have brought back his father, if they could have saved him from his cruel fate under the lash…

“Sorry about that.” Volk turned to him. “I guess I got a little sentimental there. Seems like I always have a lot to think about since I met you.”

Darc’s eyes widened in surprise at the Lupine’s words. It was strange to hear him talk that way.

“So...have you decided your next course of action?”

“We must get the Water Stone back,” Darc said. “And I want to find out more about this Droguza. Something doesn’t seem right…”

Volk watched him curiously. “You plan on going after him?”

“Yeah...he’s involved himself with the Drakyr somehow. I know they’re after more than my Wind Stone now. But I don’t know the circumstances.”

His companion clapped him heavily on the shoulder. “You’ll figure it out. I’m certain of it. We all trust in your judgement. Wherever you go, we will follow.”

They shared the comfortable silence a while longer before Darc excused himself. He needed to be alone to think. As he neared the alley’s exit, he spotted something familiar lying in the grass, illuminated by a pale beam of moonlight.

“ _ I am carrying the torch now, _ ” he read after he lifted the ancient tablet into his hands. “ _ With love, I’ll light the way from where you stand _ .”

Darc scowled. Stupid, sappy, human-sounding nonsense.

“What the hell?!” he grouched irritably. “Are they trying to make fun of me? Of course you start your quest from where you stand! Where else? And that ghost thinks this kind of nonsense is going to save him.”

Yet he pocketed the ancient tablet all the same. For as ridiculous as it sounded, there was something in those words which stirred in his memory.

~x~

 

Lilia watched the bright navigation display in the Megist’s cockpit, unable to derive any meaning from the many shapes and symbols that moved across the screen. The sky beyond the wide panoramic windows was the prettiest of blue, like the cornflowers she had once picked with her mother before she died.

“Reporting!” the pilot said. “Kharg and his friends succeeded in escaping from the volcano!”

Lilia’s heart lightened a bit at his words. Ever since the Dilzweld had rushed her back to the airship, still lightheaded and coughing from the sulfuric fumes, she had been terribly worried over the fate of the others.

Darkham chuckled. “The rats! How persistent they are. But that’s all they can do, just run around in circles. After all, a rat is no match for a tiger.”

“You’ve already taken the Light Stone from me,” Lilia said boldly. “So why don’t you just let me go? Why are you keeping me here…?”

Darkham turned his gaunt features on her. “You’re useful to me in ways that even you yourself don’t realize. Maybe one day you’ll understand.”

Lilia lowered her gaze.  _ Useful in ways she didn’t even realize? _   What could  _ that  _ mean? She recalled Tatjana’s words upon first waking in the prison cabin. Could there really be anything that important about her?

“Take her away,” Darkham ordered with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Yes, sir!” one of the soldiers saluted. “Get moving!” he barked at her.

Lilia went quietly. There was nothing more she could do at the moment. 

The soldier locked her inside the cabin without another word. Lilia curled up on the cot, still feeling weak and slightly ill from their foray into the volcano. If she was going to be stuck in here for a while, she may as well get some rest…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been able to stop thinking about this story over the last couple of weeks, so I cranked this chapter out pretty quickly. Not like I have anything more important to do - except work on my resume, maybe?! I'm so into writing this fic at the moment I haven't been able to put it down. But that's a good thing, right?
> 
> Thanks again to everyone who continues to read and enjoy this story and to those who are leaving kudos. It really means a lot to me. I can't tell you how happy it makes me to be able to share it with other fans of this game and especially this pairing. Darc/Lilia is the best. :)


	9. Chapter 9

The birds were causing a racket outside the inn the next morning. It must be very late, Darc realized as he tucked Lilia’s ortena into the sash of his kilt and picked up his sword. He’d stayed awake until dawn, or so he guessed, having been too preoccupied with the many tangled threads of his thoughts to sleep. Volk had already left, and the Lupine was usually the last one to rise.

He swept back the curtains to find his companions waiting for him in the inn’s lobby.

“Hey, Camellia!” he barked by way of greeting. “I’ve got something to ask you.”

“Wh-what’s that?” she asked, still clearly anxious following the events of the previous night.

“What happens when all five Great Spirit Stones are gathered together? You receive their infinite power, right?”

“Well, ah…” Camellia fumbled. “You see…” she hesitated with a nervous laugh.

“If you won’t give me a straight answer, I’ll toss you to Delma,” he growled at her.

“You wouldn’t…!” the sage gasped. “Of course I’ll answer. According to Pianta legend…” she began dreamily. “We evolved from monsters into Deimos by the power of the Miracle Stones. Then the five stones were scattered throughout the world, and anyone who used their combined might…” she looked up into Darc’s face. “Would receive infinite power and become the Ultimate Deimos.”

“The Ultimate Deimos?” Darc repeated.

“That’s right…” Camellia continued. “The most powerful being in existence. Bestowed with supreme strength befitting the Deimos race. This power has no equal among the Deimos of today. Rather, it’s closer to what was revered among the legendary Deimos of old.” She looked around at the others. “It’s said one would receive power like that of the ancient mages.”

“Ancient mages?” Delma interrupted. “Legendary Deimos of old? Huh?”

“Long, long ago…” Bebedora said. “Pilgrims from another world arrived in this one. Hoping to find paradise here, they created an artificial land underground. Black beyond black. Darkness beyond darkness. Those...were the Deimos of old.”

“Bodies fine-tuned for battle,” Camellia explained. “Magic power beyond measure. Evolution into an Ultimate Deimos with powers akin to those most legendary of Deimos. The path to becoming the Ultimate Deimos will open to whoever uses the infinite power of the Great Spirit Stones. Most likely Droguza is gathering the stones with that in mind…”

“I see…” Darc lowered his gaze to his mismatched hands. “So you can become the Ultimate Deimos as long as you have this infinite power…”

If he could become the Ultimate Deimos...then it wouldn’t matter that his whore of a mother had been a human. Then he could truly eliminate his human weakness once and for all. His humanity, which he had spent so much time and effort these last few months trying desperately to erase, would no longer be an obstacle for him to overcome. For with the gift of the Spirits, his strength would be so great, his power so complete…

Had this been what his father was guiding him toward all this time, when he had told him to save the Deimos?

“That’s it!” he told his companions. “I’m gonna become the Ultimate Deimos! Droguza can’t save the suffering Deimos! Only I can!”

“But even so…” Delma replied. “How can we capture Droguza? We don’t even know where he is.”

Darc considered for a moment. If Droguza had somehow convinced the Drakyr to work for him, then surely he exercised some power over their tribe.

“We’ll go to the Drakyr homeland, Ragnoth.”

“What?” Delma exclaimed. “Ragnoth?!”

“Ragnoth…” Volk echoed thoughtfully. His one good eye slid out of focus, gazing far beyond his companions.

“What is it?” Darc asked.

“Nothing...I’ll never forget Ragnoth...that’s all…”

Bebedora stepped forward to stand before the Lupine, tilting her head up to look into his face. Even with her bizarre hat providing her with a few extra inches in height, she barely reached his navel.

“Black, black, jet-black sadness. Indigo distress. Scarlet hatred. Red, red...a red-hot soul, burning itself out.”

“Shut up!” Volk snapped. “Stop looking into my soul! You know nothing about me! Do it again and I’ll kill you!”

Bebedora merely giggled. Volk turned to his leader.

“That creepy little freak!”

Darc moved past his companions, restless to begin their journey.

“Come on, let’s head for Ragnoth.”

 

~x~

 

It was already late in the day when they arrived on the thickly forested shores of the continent. Ragnoth’s climate, Darc discovered immediately upon landing, was much more temperate than anything he was used to. Though it was nearly summer, there was a slight chill in the air as they traveled deep into the foliage, fading rays of sunlight appearing here and there between the branches.

Darc halted when they came upon a small clearing. The sound of running water gurgled faintly somewhere nearby. Despite having never stepped foot on the continent previously, something inside him was guiding him north. He peered up at the darkening sky, a blue-violet canvas streaked with brilliant shades of rose and gold.

“We’ll camp here for the night,” he said, turning to his companions. “I don’t want to go any further until morning. I’m not sure how long it will take us to reach Drakyrnia.”

He did not sense they were in hostile territory. On the contrary, the forest around them was calm and quiet. No monsters had attacked them yet, nor had he noticed any evidence that they were walking into a trap. Droguza and his henchmen, however, could be anywhere, and the last thing he wanted was to do battle with them in the dead of night on their own turf, where he would be at a distinct disadvantage until he learned the lay of the land.

His companions went about setting up camp. Darc dropped their equipment in a pile beneath an ancient willow and considered taking advantage of their current location. His softer, more delicate human skin felt unpleasantly gritty, covered in a thin layer of dirt and dried sweat after the hot, dusty plains of Adenade.

“Oh, quit complaining and leave supper to me!” Camellia chided as she set a pot of water to boil over the open fire. Volk sat across from her on his bedroll, glaring at the mushrooms by her side. “We Pianta are experts when it comes to cooking all manner of edible roots and vegetation we find in the wild. Herbs and berries, too.”

“That’s strange, aren’t they like your cousins or something?” the Lupine grumbled under his breath. Delma snickered beside him.

Camellia whacked his arm with the ladle. “You hush! It’s not my fault meat is scarce in these parts!”

“Hey! Watch where you’re putting that thing, old woman or I’ll jam it down your throat,” Volk growled at her.

“Bright orange. A spark of annoyance,” observed Bebedora.

Darc shouldered his pack and approached his companions by the campfire.

“I’ll be back later,” he informed them. They immediately dropped their dispute and looked up at him in surprise.

“Where are _you_ going?” Delma asked indignantly.

Darc scowled at her boldness. “To bathe.”

His companions quietly went back to their business. They knew better than to question his more humanlike sensibilities whenever they arose.

Darc disappeared into the trees, following the sound of running water. A few minutes later he reached a gently flowing stream, some half dozen meters across and clear enough to see shale and moss-covered rocks at the bottom.

He set his pack down on the grassy bank and began the task of removing his armor and clothing. The setting sun sparkled on the surface of the water and warmed his skin as he stripped naked, trees throwing long shadows across the forest floor.

Darc stepped into the gentle current, the pleasantly cool water lapping lazily against the flat muscles of his stomach as he gained his footing on the slippery rocks. He submerged himself completely for a second before retrieving soap from his pack, combing his long hair back from his face with his human hand.

A distant nightingale twittered its song in the twilight. Darc sighed contently as he relaxed against the flat side of a boulder at the water’s edge, still warm from the late afternoon sun. The quiet solitude was peaceful. Bathing had been a rare luxury during his enslavement, only risking a short trip to the ocean near the Church Ruins whenever he’d finished his chores early and could steal a few moments to himself.

He splashed water over his torso, taking the time to massage his sore muscles with his human hand, smoothing over bronzed skin and the tougher texture of his scales. With his index finger he absently traced the brutal scars that littered his chest, pale vestiges of his life under the lash, still able to feel the phantom pain of his floggings.

_Lilia…_

The warm feeling in his chest stirred. How he longed for her presence. The semi-conscious memory of her gentle hands as she tended his wounds in Asheeda Forest came to mind, so long ago now it seemed. He closed his eyes and stroked his fingertips over his chest again, as if to mimic her soft touch. What he wouldn’t give to see her again…

What he wouldn’t give to be able to hold her…

He trailed his hand over the hard muscles of his abdomen and entertained the thought for a while, of her petite figure in his arms, of her careful, soothing hands on his body. No one else had ever touched him with such gentleness before, with the slow deliberation of an open palm rather than the chaotic violence of a clenched fist. Somehow, she had reached something much deeper than the wound in his back when she’d put her hands on him that day, her healing touch extending far beyond the surface of his flesh.

Breath quickening, he tilted his head back against the rocks. The warmth in his chest intensified, slowly spreading to every extremity of his body like melted wax and settling deep in his stomach, a heavy, insistent ache. A cool breeze caressed his burning cheeks, flushed despite the chill of the evening.

It was only when he reached below the surface of the water did he realize just how aroused he had become.

Darc groaned softly at the magnified sensations in his body. He took his hardened length in his human hand and slowly stroked the swollen flesh, hissing when he pressed his thumb to his sensitive tip. The heat in his belly increased, breaths becoming ragged and uneven from his own steady ministrations. He wondered how she might feel against him, all warm and soft and delicate, and as he moved his hand over himself with a firmer grasp, he imagined what it might be like to touch her. What it might be like to kiss her.

What it might be like to make love with her.

Powerful spasms ripped through his body. Sinking his fangs into the scaled knuckles of his claw to silence himself, he tensed and shook violently before pulsing hard in his own hand.

His chest heaved convulsively, muscles twitching in the wake of his searing pleasure. Slowly, he regained cognizance of his surroundings as his thundering heartbeat returned to normal.

A gentle breeze rustled the branches. He opened his eyes, swaying slightly in the current, to find the forest had darkened to blue and grey shadows around him.

In the gathering dusk, his gaze fell upon the wicked shape of his claw.

And then his shame crashed over him, so overwhelming that he turned away from the fading light and hid his face in his hands, mortified by what he had just done.

Spirits, he was a sick _bastard!_ What was he doing, thinking about a human - about _Lilia_ \- while giving himself pleasure?

What the hell was wrong with him?

It wasn’t until after he’d freed himself from slavery that he’d even begun to engage in such behavior, having never been allowed any privacy whatsoever, frequently too exhausted and in pain to care. Release had always been quick and mechanical for him, executed with a detached sense of indifference, completely devoid of any emotion or conscious thought - a solitary act that served only to satisfy the physical instinct to mate, nothing more.

His scowl deepened. Had he really just thought of mating as _making love?_

Deimos mated solely for procreation. Only foolish humans associated the act of mating with _love._

He finished washing quickly, grateful for the semi-darkness that now obscured his repulsive nudity. Furious anger surged in his chest, adding to his confusion and the myriad of unidentifiable feelings residing there.

He didn’t want or need _love,_ like some pathetic human _._ All he needed was power.

His clawed hand clutched at his birthmark.

And he sure as hell didn’t _love_ Lilia. That was ridiculous, absurd, impossible…

He didn’t even know her well.

Even if he did...it’s not like she would ever want to be intimate with a deformed, half-bred freak, anyway.

 _Be intimate with…?_  Darc shook his head at the expression. Stupid, worthless thoughts. What the hell was he thinking? Clearly, he was losing his mind.

By the time he dried off and dressed, his shame had thoroughly deteriorated into self-disgust. Lilia’s ortena bumped against his hip as he tied the sash of his kilt, and for a moment he considered hurling the carved instrument into the stream.

His human hand faltered. Then he picked up his sword instead. He took a moment to collect himself before returning to camp, trying to appear as normal as possible despite his foul mood.

“About damn time!” Delma quipped when he stepped into the clearing. “What took you so long?”

“Mind your own business!” he snarled at her.

“Geez...okay…” she muttered, turning back to her stew. “Sorry I asked…”

Darc prowled wordlessly over to the ancient willow and settled between its gnarled roots, far from the warm glow of the fire, avoiding his companions and feeling rather ill.

_Spirits...what was wrong with him?_

“Intense feelings. Complex emotions. Darc’s soul is a mysterious soul,” Bebedora blurted across the silent clearing. “Swirling doubt. Scarlet shame. Violet confusion. A burning secret, concealed in black, black despair. Everything returns to the darkness.”

“What are you blabbering about?” Darc snapped, but he could feel the heat rising from beneath his armor, creeping up the sides of his neck and face.

Bebedora giggled, unmoved by his temper. “But you don’t want to.”

Darc turned away, trying not to appear as completely spooked as he felt. He was very aware of his companions’ eyes on him.

“Oooh!” Camellia cackled excitedly, dropping the ladle in the pot of stew with a splash. “A secret? Bebedora, child, did you just say Darc has a secret? Oh, do tell!”

Darc grit his teeth. Something inside him which had been under an enormous strain lately felt like it was about to snap.

“Leave him be,” Volk growled. “It’s been a long day. Let’s all get some rest.”

For the briefest of moments, the Lupine met his gaze, mingled curiosity and concern flickering in his good eye. Darc lowered his head.

“What the hell is his problem?” he heard Delma whisper.

“Don’t push it,” Volk replied through his fangs.

Darc rested against the ancient tree trunk and listened to his companions bedding down around the fire, trying to ignore the lingering shame still twisting his insides. He would take the first watch. It’s not like he’d be able to sleep even if he tried.

The forest was very quiet, his companions’ snores soon joining the crackling flames and gentle serenade of crickets in the peaceful evening around him. Darc was forcefully reminded of that night beneath the stars when Lilia had spoken calmly with him about the Light Stone, her sapphire eyes glimmering softly in the firelight.

He frowned deeply in his distress and absently traced the outline of her ortena in his sash. He wasn’t even sure why he had been carrying it all this time, or why he hadn’t been able to dispose of it in the stream like he’d earlier intended.

He sighed heavily and rested his chin on his folded arms, profoundly troubled.

Other than that he knew with absolute certainty that he wanted to return it to her someday…

 

~x~

 

Drakyrnia was a vertical city built into the very side of a mountain, far to the north of Ragnoth. Darc felt a peculiar sense of familiarity with the place the moment they arrived.

His father had obviously been Drakyr, he thought as he observed the winged Deimos. For one fleeting moment, he remembered the leathery feel of his own wings and the unparalleled agony he’d experienced when the sinew had been torn from his shoulders.

_A Drakyr who can’t fly...is a Drakyr who can die._

Darc touched his birthmark. Did his father’s own people really hate him that much?

If they did, they certainly weren’t showing it now. No one had even spared him a glance. On the contrary, a rather subdued atmosphere hung over the city.

“Strange...it’s much too quiet…” he mused. “No one seems bothered in the slightest that I’ve arrived.”

Volk looked over at him. “That’s not like them. Usually the Drakyr are much more aggressive.”

“So what does this mean?” Darc wondered aloud.

“I’m not sure,” the Lupine said. “I don’t sense any hostility here. But watch yourself. It might be a trap to trick us into complacency.”

Darc didn’t need to be told twice. How well he knew. He even expected it.

“We can fight our way out of a trap. I’d almost prefer that to this...unnatural quiet.” He glanced toward the Drakyr keeping watch atop a stone column. “Let’s talk to someone.”

Darc approached the sentinel, his fingers lingering near the hilt of his sword despite Volk’s reassurance. He could feel something strange in this place, a sad sort of peace from which he sensed no threat. His companions must have realized it too, for neither Delma nor Camellia had spoken a single word since they’d arrived. The two women walked slowly side by side, necks craned as they peered in awe at the winged Deimos hovering high above them. Bebedora trailed silently behind, carrying a bouquet of dead wildflowers.

“This is Drakyrnia, the Drakyr homeland,” the guard spoke when they approached. “We live quiet lives here. You ought to be on your way as soon as you can, traveler.”

Darc exchanged glances with his companions. The sentry hadn’t even recognized him.

Delma went to a stone archway in the cliff face. “Hey, Darc, why don’t you just ask them where Droguza’s hiding and be done with it?” She poked her head around the doorframe. “Hey, this is an equipment shop! Think the Quorup might know something?”

Darc followed her inside. The shop was warm and unexpectedly cozy, illuminated by the soft orange glow of many lanterns hanging from the ceiling. A fire burned in the kiln on the far wall, various tools and weapons for sale displayed on racks behind the counter.

Darc approached the nearest Quorup.

“I’m looking for Droguza. Tell me where he is.”

The Quorup looked him up and down, scanning his more human side with a critical eye.

“We Quorup do not involve ourselves in Drakyr affairs,” he said loftily. “I suggest you speak with Sagan. Otherwise, what new weapon parts may I assist you with?”

“Sagan?” Darc repeated.

“He is the elder’s attendant,” the Quorup replied primly. “Now, may I interest you in this fine dragonbone dagger? My partner has just crafted it from -”

“Where might I find him?”

The Quorup stared at him for a moment before drawing himself up regally. “He should be in the city somewhere. As I was saying, we only use the finest materials -”

Darc turned away before he could finish. The Quorup broke off, looking offended.

“Hey, Darc,” Volk called to him from the other side of the shop. He held up a stone tile. “What do you suppose this is?”

Darc recognized it immediately. He took the ancient tablet from his companion, brushing off the thick layer of dust that covered the inscription.

 _“ Storm clouds break away revealing a shining sun,_ ” he recited. “ _Pouring out the light that will guide me. How could you see and not believe?”_

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Delma sighed in exasperation.

“Not much of a poet are you, Delma dear?” Camellia quipped.

“Shut up!” Delma snapped, stamping her foot.

Darc ignored them, focusing on the words he had just read. There was something about it…

“The Spirits are speaking to us…?” he rifled through his memory, trying to remember what each of the Spirits had told him. “I still have no idea where these Spirits could be leading the Deimos though.”

“Isn’t that one of those tile things Kirjath was looking for?” Volk asked.

“Yeah…” Darc said absently, still lost in thought.

Delma snorted. “I still don’t get why you promised that ghost you’d fulfill his damn quest for him. What a waste of time.”

Darc considered for a moment. She was probably right, but he couldn’t go back on his word now.

“Come on,” he said, leading the way to the exit. “Let’s find out where this Sagan is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Darc. He's so confused. :)
> 
> Right, so I told you all this was going to be angsty! Also as I'm sure you've figured out by now, some scenes will be explicit, as I mentioned in my story notes earlier. Hopefully I haven't offended anyone with describing this chapter's content in detail. At least I hope it wasn't as cringe-inducing to read as it was to write. At least not more than intended hahaha.
> 
> Thanks again to all of you for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

“Wait!”

Darc halted at the sound of the voice hailing him.

“That birthmark on your arm!”

He turned toward the speaker, fine mist from the nearby waterfall collecting in a thin layer on his skin. His companions hesitated, too, before slowing to a halt behind him. An old Drakyr with tattered wings approached him urgently, emerging from the shadows beneath a high cliff, stooped by age and leaning heavily on his walking stick. 

“That face…” he continued, peering up at him. “There’s no mistaking it! Could you possibly be of Windalf’s line…?”

Darc startled. This old Deimos was the only one with whom he had spoken who had even mentioned Windalf, let alone recognized any connection with him. The corners of his lips twitched upward in an almost-smile. Did he really resemble his father that much?

“Windalf…?!” he exclaimed. “You know my father?”

“Father?!” replied the ancient Drakyr. “Then you must be…Windalf’s son?!”

“I am!” Darc said, barely able to contain his excitement. His heart swelled with pride.

So he really was Deimos enough to look like his father…

He stepped forward, leaving his silent companions by the waterfall. “I’m Darc!”

“Oho! I never thought the day would come…” the Drakyr replied. His expression softened, his tone amicable and caring. “Darc...my name is Sagan. I used to serve Windalf many years ago.”

“So you say…” Darc considered the old Deimos before him, sobering somewhat as he remembered his whole reason for being there. “But the Drakyr are after my Wind Stone and have stolen the Water Stone from me as well.”

Sagan’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand my lord’s meaning.”

Darc scowled. Of course. The aged Drakyr sought to gain his trust under the manipulative guise of flattery. He should have known.

“Oh, drop the act!” he snarled. “Tell me! Where’s the Water Stone? Where’s Droguza?”

Sagan frowned at him, confusion etched across his withered features. “I really don’t know. Please meet with our elder. I’m sure Williwo will be able to tell you all you want to know.”

“Fine,” Darc replied, watching the old Deimos suspiciously “And where’s he?”

Sagan gestured with his staff. Darc craned his neck, shielding his eyes from the sun peeking through the silvery fog, to see a doorway flanked by ornate columns far above.

“The elder’s room is up this staircase, the highest room in the building.”

Darc faced him again. “Just so you know...don’t bother setting any traps. I came here to destroy you Drakyr. I won’t be letting my guard down.”

Sagan’s expression changed into one of shock before turning rather sad. “Oh, but we would never…!” He gazed at Darc a moment longer. “In any case, please speak with the elder.”

Darc returned to his companions, who were watching him curiously.

“What was that about?” Volk asked.

“We must visit the elder if we want any information about Droguza,” Darc replied, walking swiftly past them.

“Finally, someone who can tell us something that’s worth a damn!” Delma huffed as she fell in step behind him.

“I will do the talking. Just keep your mouth shut unless I say otherwise.”

Darc led the way up the narrow staircase carved into the side of the cliff. From here they could see all of Drakyrnia sprawled out below them and a wide valley in the distance, stretching beyond a ridge of violet-hued mountains far to the northwest.

“Who are you?” a portly Drakyr barked at them when they entered the chamber. He appeared even older than Sagan. “What do you want?”

It was warmer and cozier in here, much like the equipment shop had been. Rich, colorful rugs carpeted the stone floor, illuminated by an iron chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, swaying slightly in the wind. 

“Are you the elder, Williwo?” Darc demanded as he came to stand in the middle of the room. “Tell me where Droguza and the Water Stone are.”

“What a rude fellow you are,” Williwo replied, eyes sweeping over his half-human body, not bothering to conceal his contempt.

Sagan’s hobbling footsteps approached on the stone ledge outside.

“Williwo? This is Darc,” he explained.

“Darc, you say?” the elder’s brow raised slightly. His gaze swept over the young man before him once more. 

“Yes, Darc,” Sagan continued pointedly. “Windalf’s son.”

“Windalf…” the elder said. He turned his face away, an unreadable expression further marring his features. “...He’s...he’s dead.”

“That’s right,” Darc growled. “You banished him. He wandered the land, until finally…” his voice began to rise in his anger. “My father died of the wounds he’d received at your hands. You murdered my father!”

“Murdered?” Williwo repeated. He turned to face him again. “Murder wouldn’t be good enough for the likes of him. So he died on the road, eh? A fitting end.”

“What?!” Darc gasped.

“His crimes were great,” Williwo continued. “He neglected his duties as the Drakyr leader...He broke Deimos law by consorting with a human...And if that weren’t enough, he stole our treasured Wind Stone. The entire Drakyr tribe nearly fell into ruin because of him. That’s why we banished him.” His eyes flickered to Darc’s right hand, tracing his more human side. “And what does the son of that traitor want with us now?”

Darc nearly choked. His companions remained in shocked silence behind him, shifting uncomfortably. To be called a traitor’s son stung deeply after all the betrayal he himself had endured. His anger surged. 

“Want with you?” he spat. “Have you gone soft in the head, old man?! Let me tell you something. Now listen closely! You Drakyr tried to kill me and take back the Wind Stone. Dorguza’s gone off somewhere after stealing the Water Stone I rightfully won. And now you feign ignorance while keeping Droguza and the Water Stone hidden. For those crimes…” he added vehemently. “Murder wouldn’t be good enough for the likes of you. Don’t you think so, elder?”

Williwo lowered his gaze to the floor.

“Please, Darc, stop,” Sagan implored softly from the corner of the room.

Only the wind howling outside the stone doorway could be heard in the ensuing silence. Darc fumed, holding the elder with his glare. 

“The Wind Stone used to belong to the Drakyr,” Williwo explained. “Windalf stole it...And isn’t he your father? They say thieves are impudent, and here’s your proof!” He gestured at Darc with one of his weathered claws. “You are a traitor’s son, that’s clear. And born of a human, no less.”

“So you hired assassins to kill me,” Darc snapped. His eyes narrowed with hatred. “Is that it?”

“What a simpleton…” the elder replied. “If we Drakyr had that power...do you really think Drakyrnia would be in such a sorry state? Ever since we lost the Wind Stone, the former glory and traditions of the dragons have been dying…” He considered Darc again before continuing. “Our power is wasting away. Lost to the humans in Plumb Canyon...Even our holy Dragon Bone Valley has been damaged by humans…”

“I don’t need to hear your sob story,” Darc growled impatiently. “I have only two demands…” He took a step forward with his hand on the hilt of his sword, hoping to intimidate the elder into complying. “Give back the Water Stone immediately! And bring me Droguza!”

Williwo did not rise to the bait. “Droguza, eh? Aha, now I see. Droguza, that mysterious Deimos from Halshinne way…and the fools lured away by him.” His expression turned thoughtful. “That’s who you’re talking about. They’re not dragonfolk of the Drakyr race. They’re merely lowly beasts who have tossed aside their dragon pride to live their lives as mere agents of other Deimos.” 

Darc hesitated at the elder’s words. “So are you saying they have no connection to you at all? Then tell me where Droguza and his underlings are!”

Williwo was quiet for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his tone was weary. “That...I cannot tell you. Though they may now stoop to serving Droguza, they were once Drakyr, as I am.” He drew himself up to his full height, peering austerely down his nose. “Son of the traitorous Windalf...it’s much better to be a fallen Drakyr than a stinking Deimos wannabe!”

Darc felt as if he’d just been kicked in the chest. Whether it had been his father’s tribe or the Drakyr working under Droguza who had attacked him three times now made no difference. He really was nothing to these Deimos. No matter how strong he became, no matter how much power he wielded, he would never be anything to anyone. All because of his inherent human weakness. 

_ Deimos wannabe… _ The slur resounded in his head. Was that all he would ever be?

“Drakyr youth aren’t protecting the holy Dragon Bone Valley,” Williwo continued. “They’ve come to follow Deimos like Droguza. And whose fault is that? Windalf’s! Your father’s!”

Darc hung his head. Even if that were true, he shouldn’t be held responsible for his father’s mistakes. He wasn’t the one fraternizing with a despicable human. 

Lilia’s gentle smile crept into his mind and he recalled his time alone while bathing the night before.

His face burned.

“However…” Williwo’s voice drew his attention again. “If you were able to pass the Dragon Ordeal, it’d be a different story.”

Darc lifted his gaze at his words.

“The Dragon Ordeal?” He echoed. “What’s that?”

“A test for aspiring Drakyr leaders,” the elder explained. “Complete it successfully and the crimes of your father would be pardoned...and you, his son, would be ushered in as the new leader of the Drakyr tribe.”

Darc was quiet. Becoming the leader of the very people who had shunned his father interested him little, other than that it would further solidify his status as king of the Deimos. Certainly useful, if nothing else. And Williwo was adamantly withholding information from him... 

“Droguza and his henchmen would become enemies of the state…” the elder continued. “And I would tell you where they were.”

“I’ll do it.” 

Williwo raised an eyebrow at his swift and determined acceptance, doubt lingering on his features before settling into a neutral expression once more. “Then fetch the Dragon Master Crown which lies in the Dragon Bone Valley Cave to the northwest of here.” Again, his eyes swept over Darc’s more human side. “But know that this is the Dragon Ordeal. It has no meaning unless a Drakyr carries it out alone, with no help from other Deimos. You must enter the cave using your own power alone.”

Darc turned to leave, gesturing for his silent companions to follow. He halted at the exit and looked over his shoulder at the elder.

“As soon as I bring that crown back here, I expect you to tell me where Droguza is hiding,” he growled. 

“I will…if you can get the crown, that is,” Williwo replied evenly. “Dragon Bone Valley is under human occupation. You must first liberate Dragon Bone Valley if you have any hopes of entering the cave.”

Darc departed without another word. Humans wouldn’t be an issue. It was this cryptic Dragon Ordeal he was worried about…

 

~x~

 

“You okay there, Darc?” 

Darc did not answer the Lupine immediately, keeping his eyes on the rocky forest floor. It was beginning to snow lightly as they climbed in elevation, large soft flakes settling silently on the bare tree limbs around them. 

“And why shouldn’t I be?” he grumbled irritably.

“It’s just…” Volk hesitated. “You’ve not really been yourself lately…”

“Yeah, like what?” Darc spat.

“Well...I don’t know…” The Lupine chose his words carefully. “You’ve been quieter, I guess. And sort of...brooding a lot.” He cut a sideways glance at his leader. “You sure you’re okay?”

Darc remained silent. Had he really been that obvious? He really needed to quit acting like such a damn human and pull himself together.

“I’m fine,” he replied shortly.

The trees were beginning to thin. A layer of snow covered the ground leading out of the forest, muffling his footsteps and those of his companions.

“Look! Humans!” Delma hissed behind him. “This must be the valley that old Drakyr was talking about!”

Sure enough, a dozen Dilzweld soldiers were gathered around some strange boulders growing out of the smooth rock face up ahead, while others patrolled the area and kept watch. Darc ducked behind one of the wheeled human machines near the forest edge, his companions following quickly.

“Come on!” Delma exclaimed. “What are we waiting for? We  _ are  _ gonna attack, right?”

Darc shushed her and peered around the side of the vehicle. Across the valley he could see an opening like a long black tunnel leading into the mountainside.

“That cavern in there must be the Dragon Bone Valley Cave…” he breathed.

Delma glanced at him. “Are you gonna force your way in?”

“Yeah, as soon as we get the humans out of the way!” He drew his sword. “They’ll have to pay for stepping foot on Deimos land! Let’s go!”

He charged out from behind the vehicle, his companions close on his heels. The soldiers cried out in alarm at their sudden ambush, scrambling to hide behind crates and barrels. Darc opted to use magic rather than risk hand-to-hand combat, staying well out of range of their firearms. If he were injured here, it would only make his struggle more difficult when he faced the Dragon Ordeal.

...Whatever that would be.

His companions seemed to realize this too, for they disposed of the humans swiftly. Darc whirled with his weapon raised, anticipating reinforcements from some place he could not see, but none approached. The wind howled across the still valley, sending swirling spirals of snow high into the air around them. He sheathed his sword.

“The Dilzweld Army again…” He touched his birthmark. “What can they be doing here?”

“Well, let’s see!” Delma scoffed. “They’re humans, aren’t they? Wouldn’t they be filching Spirit Stones?”

“You always jump to that conclusion,” Volk said. “There aren’t many Spirit Stones to be gathered here. If that’s all they’re after...they’d be better off in Plumb Canyon.”

“Why are they here, then?” Delma asked, looking unconvinced. “Why didn’t they go to Plumb Canyon in the first place?”

“As if I know what humans are thinking!” the Lupine snapped. 

“Why are you so upset?” Delma shot back. 

“There are...feelings...left behind here. Human emotions drifting about.”

Bebedora’s monotone summoned Darc’s attention, barely loud enough to be heard over the gale. He moved to stand before her. 

“Can you tell, Bebedora?”

“I see...a green wind,” she explained. “A green wind, like Darc’s. But it’s a sham. It’s a created color. A false color, a false wind...False green.”

“Like me?” Darc said, taken aback. “A sham?” He looked over at Delma. “What’s she talking about anyway?”

“Why would you think I understand her any better than you?” she snapped.

Bebedora merely giggled. “Everyone is black...turning into despair. Everything...everything returns to darkness.

Delma stamped her foot. “...Damn it! What nonsense! She’s not helping anybody!”

Darc lowered his gaze to the snow-covered earth and gripped his birthmark again. “I thought I understood her for a minute there…”

Volk came to stand beside him. “Human cunning and Bebedora’s words - two things no amount of thinking will ever make clear. Let’s find that Dragon Master Crown and get after Droguza.”

Darc agreed, trying to shift his focus to the task at hand. They had wasted enough time already. Droguza could very well be on the other side of the continent by now if Williwo had tipped him off.

Near the cave’s entrance he spotted what he recognized immediately as one of Kirjath’s ancient tablets laying in the snow. Brushing ice crystals from its surface with his human hand, he peered at the words inscribed on its face.

_ “I don’t know when I’ll leave this life,” _ he read.  _ “So if I’m going to be, I might as well be flying high. Maybe soon will come a day all things will fall into place. Holding and trusting, miracles teach us to believe." _

He scowled. He had definitely heard these words somewhere before, of that much he was certain.

Not that they sounded any less stupid.

“A miracle?” He snapped at the offending letters. “Why waste time looking for something like that?! Power is the only thing that matters!”

He cautiously approached the entrance to the cave and halted just outside. It was impossible to calculate the depth of the passage, for it was pitch black beyond the first few meters. Darc tilted his head, listening for any sounds which might inform him of what lay beyond, but the cavern was eerily silent.

He turned to face his companions. 

“I’m on my own from here on out,” he told them. 

“Oh, just forget about your promise to that old Drakyr,” Delma said. “It’s got to be dangerous to go alone.”

“No, this test is also my own personal revenge,” Darc replied firmly. “I can’t become what he said I was. And this will show the Drakyr how powerful I am, too!”

Delma dropped her gaze, but for once she did not argue.

“It’s all right, Delma,” Volk reassured her. “Darc’s not the kind of guy who’d get himself killed doing something like this.”

“I know!” Delma huffed. “...I know that.” She scuffed at the snow with her foot.

Bebedora stepped forward and stared up at the cave’s entrance.

“Hey, get back here!” Delma snapped. “If we’re not allowed to go, then neither are you!”

“The Dragon Ordeal…” Bebedora said, ignoring the others completely. “A gold- and silver-colored past. Rain-colored regrets. Blue-green suffering.” She lifted her colorless face toward Darc, and her voice seemed to soften somewhat, a quiet whisper nearly lost on the wind. “Darc...you must not be broken...by the...burdens of the past.”

Darc did not offer her a reply. He would be lying if he said Bebedora didn’t frequently give him the creeps, but there was something oddly comforting about her ability to read his soul without him having to explain himself. For her words provided reassurance and strengthened his resolve as he pressed through the gale toward the cavern’s entrance with his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Wait.”

Darc hesitated at the edge of the frozen tunnel.

“What is it, Bebedora?”

He glanced over his shoulder to see the little girl moving toward him. And then he felt her small, doll-like hand press something firmly into his grasp.

“Thanks, Bebedora,” he told her without looking at what she had given him. 

He stepped forward again and darkness enveloped him like a heavy veil, blocking out even the sound of the howling wind. The challenge that awaited him must be even more daunting than he could anticipate.

For when he raised his claw, he found a Great Herb clutched in the palm of his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who's reading!


	11. Chapter 11

Darc emerged from the tunnel into a high-ceilinged chamber, his footsteps reverberating eerily off the frozen walls. It was so dark that he could barely see. Massive shadows loomed around him, icy stalagmites growing twice his height along the cavern’s perimeter.

His spine tingled. He had a peculiar feeling that he’d walked into a tomb, as if this place were sacred and he was standing on some ancient, hallowed ground.

Cautiously, he moved to stand in the center of the cave, human hand gripping his sword handle tightly, muscles tensed in anticipation of a sudden onslaught. But his surroundings remained unchanged, so quiet even his measured breaths materializing in the air before him seemed too loud in the silent stillness. 

When it became clear that an attack was not imminent, he allowed his muscles to relax, but kept his hand firmly on the hilt of his sword and allowed his eyes to wander, taking in the chamber as his vision adjusted to the gloom. A silver circlet glinted dully on top of a small altar against the far wall, above a flight of steps flanked by two enormous dragons.

Darc eyed these carefully for a moment. They appeared solid, carved from precious metals, their scales gleaming gold and silver even in the absence of light, yet they seemed somewhat out of place here. He peered up into each of their faces in turn, their chiseled countenances fierce, their deep eye sockets set with chunks of glimmering onyx.

Darc returned his gaze to the silver glint at the top of the steps. That must be the Dragon Master Crown, but this all seemed much too easy...almost insultingly so. Surely he couldn’t just take it?

He scowled and moved toward the steps. Some Dragon Ordeal, he thought. Perhaps even Bebedora couldn’t be right all the time. Williwo had probably made the entire thing up, convinced he would chicken out all because of some stupid story, using his subconscious doubt that he wasn’t  _ Drakyr  _ enough to face such a challenge alone.

Well, Darc had news for that fat bastard once he hiked back to Drakyrnia with the damned thing…

He halted just before the altar. Only the silver crown, studded with colorful gems, lay upon its icy surface. Darc glared up at the carving above him, a massive dragon skeleton etched into black stone, streaked with blue veins of sparkling mineral deposits embedded deep within the rock.

He snatched up the crown.

“Ridiculous! That’s all?” he sneered, looking around him. “What kind of ordeal was that? I mean, nothing happened!”

Damn that Williwo, inventing some bogus nonsense to try to scare him off. What did that fat old Deimos take him for? A pathetic human? Of course, that much had been clear, given the elder’s behavior toward him earlier…

Darc seethed and stormed toward the exit. He had come primed for a fight, a real battle in which he could prove his strength and power to the Drakyr tribe, but this was just utterly disappointing.

“The Dragon Master Crown...is proof of a Drakyr leader. Do you have that right?”

Darc startled at the sudden disembodied voice echoing around the chamber. The somber atmosphere in the cave abruptly shifted with a gust of icy wind. 

He spun toward the carving of the dragon skeleton on the wall. Its single eye, now awakened, sparkled brightly blue in the darkness.

“Who are you?!”

The earth rumbled beneath his feet. Before he could so much as move an inch, the guardian dragons came to life, leaping off their pedestals with a deafening roar. 

Darc took a step back. Then another. And another. Never in his memory could he recall backing away from an opponent. It was all too clear to him now what was required of him, and what he must do. 

The dragons towered above him. Darc bravely stood his ground despite the nausea curling in his stomach. No way was he prepared for this. He had expected a battle, or some other kind of test, but this…

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he wasn’t entirely certain he possessed the strength to defeat them.

“Are you truly descended from the dragons?” the gold dragon spoke, its long fangs and sharp talons dangerously close to Darc’s unprotected human skin. “Who are your ancestors? What is your father’s name? Your mother’s name?”

“I’m Windalf’s son...Darc,” he replied, trying to steady the slight tremor that had crept into his voice. “My mother...I don’t have a mother!” He gripped his birthmark, forcing down the panic rising in his throat.

“On your arm...is indeed the crest of Will,” the silver dragon said. “It is a sign inscribed upon Will’s children...dragons reborn as Deimos. It is proof of Will’s blood. Windigo’s son, Willard. Willard’s son, Williwo. And you are of Williwo’s son, Windalf.”

“W-Williwo?” Darc repeated, unable to conceal his shock. “The Drakyr elder?”

“The former leader, Williwo, is Windalf’s father,” the gold dragon continued. “That is, your grandfather. The one who exiled Windalf for choosing to be with a human.”

“What…?!” 

Darc couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Many conflicted feelings clawed at his insides at this most recent piece of information. 

Williwo was his blood relative...all these years he’d thought he had no family left…

The corners of his lips pulled into a troubled frown.

For Williwo to stoop so low as to exile his own son...over being with a human? 

“Windalf...ah, yes. So you’re the son of Windalf, who loved a human,” the dragon continued, as if it had heard his thoughts. “That is why I sense a human soul within you…”

“But…” Darc lowered his head.

He was _not_ a human. He was nothing like them! Yet he knew there was some truth in the dragons’ words. Try as he might, his human feelings and sensibilities refused to go away, for they always returned no matter how hard he struggled, no matter how much he told himself and everyone else that he was a real Deimos. 

And it seemed, ever since he’d left Orcoth, that the more he fought against them, the more persistent they became... 

“Fine, then,” the gold dragon interrupted his thoughts. “If you are truly a descendant of the dragons, show me your power!”

They attacked before Darc could so much as draw his sword. He was swept bodily across the cavern, winded completely as his back collided with jagged, unyielding stone. He slid to the earthen floor in a heap, battle senses kicking into overdrive as he realized the acute danger of his situation. 

Sucking in a painful breath, he wasted no time in drawing his weapon to parry the silver dragon’s snout as it lunged toward him. The force of the blow reverberated up his sword arm all the way to his shoulder and forced him backwards, gritting his fangs against the sharp pain forming beneath his ribs from the previous impact. 

Darc quickly got his back against one corner and cast Tornado, but his spell had little effect on the advancing dragons.

_ Of course,  _ he thought, staring at his claw outstretched before him. He could wield the power of the wind precisely because he  _ wasn’t  _ human…

_ He was part dragon… _

Darc smirked, finding strength in the revelation. It would not do to fight fire with fire.

...Or wind with wind, as it were. 

The gold dragon swooped. He dodged the long fangs and plunged his sword into the softer underbelly of the massive creature. The beast roared and stumbled clumsily backward, retreating to the far side of the cavern, only to be replaced by its silver brethren.

It was a tedious battle. Darc’s blade often glanced off his adversaries’ tough, armor-like scales, requiring he strike with utmost precision. At times he found himself caught in a powerful blast of ice or fire which steadily drained him of his energy. Only his will to prove the Drakyr elder wrong - to prove all of them wrong - kept his focus and determination on the task at hand.

When it was finally over, and the dragons dissipated into an ethereal mist, Darc stood alone in the middle of the cave. His body bore the effects of their potent magic, feeling sore and exhausted in a way he had never quite felt before following a battle. 

He sheathed his sword, panting slightly as the adrenaline ebbed away, and lifted the crown in the low light.

“I have acknowledged your power.” The dragon spirit’s voice echoed around the chamber again. “As promised, I now recognize you as a descendant of the dragons and the new leader of the Drakyr.”

Darc turned angrily toward the carving on the wall.

“Forget it!” he spat. “I never wanted to be the Drakyr leader in the first place. I’m Darc! He who will rule over all Deimos. I have no time to waste on the ways of the Drakyr!”

He didn’t need this stupid dragon spirit to accept him as a powerful Deimos. Nor did he give a damn about leading a tribe that already hated him for his father’s foolish mistakes.

He stalked moodily toward the cavern’s exit.

“Darc, wait.”

The voice had changed. Darc abruptly halted at the mouth of the tunnel. He could swear he’d heard that tone before...

“You have a fair amount of dragon within you.”

Darc looked over his shoulder at the dragon spirit. But when the voice spoke again, it was just as unfamiliar to him as it had been before.

“Your Wind Stone has been broken in two. Just as you yourself are...incomplete…”

Darc finally turned to face the carving at the cryptic remark. “The Wind Stone is...incomplete? I only have half of it?”

Not that he even needed to ask. He suspected that it was incomplete, had known ever since his conversation with Lilia in Asheeda Forest. But he had always clung to the unlikely hope that she was mistaken. He’d mulled over excuses and alternative explanations in his mind on many sleepless nights as to why the Wind Stone appeared to have been split in half.

His insides contorted with unease.

“The wind’s protection and its destiny, too, are split into two,” the dragon spirit continued. “Into dragon...and man…into Deimos...and human. Though the wind be divided, still it remains. And should two winds meet, though they collide...though they struggle...finally...they form a single vortex. That is the wind’s destiny, its fate.”

Darc listened carefully. This sounded like some sort of bizarre prophetic omen. He stared, unmoving, at the giant carving above him and waited for it to continue.

“I shall settle once more into my eternal slumber. Farewell...son of Windalf...until the day you return to me.”

The spirit’s aura vanished. Darc wanted to call out for it to stay, to ask what exactly it had meant, but the cave was cold and silent.

He touched his birthmark, deep in thought.

“The wind’s destiny? Are you telling me to find the other Wind Stone…?”

He considered the dragon’s words again. 

_ The wind’s protection was split into Deimos and human? _

Darc frowned. Did this mean he had to accept his human side in order to wield the full power of the Wind Stone? That didn’t make any sense...but perhaps his father had divided the stone and given the other half to his -

He shook his head. Why would his father do that? What use could a stupid human woman possibly have with an object of such incredible power, the Drakyr tribe’s greatest treasure?

But the dragon had said that Windalf had loved her…

Darc’s scowl deepened. What was he supposed to do? Find the damned whore and retrieve the other half? Did that mean she wasn’t dead after all, as he had hoped?

He’d  _ kill _ her. 

He’d kill her and take the other half without a second thought. He didn’t give a  _ damn  _ about that selfish human wench. 

Perhaps it was her fate that she should die by his hand.

Serves her right...for she was more than deserving of it. If only she could feel an ounce of the pain he felt, just a fraction of the torture he had suffered…

Darc clenched his fist so tightly his claws cut into the soft human skin of his palm. His chaotic disaster of a life was all her fault. He  _ hated  _ the bitch. And he would never stop hating her, even after he killed her…

He opened his eyes, unaware that he had even closed them, and for one horrifying moment he was back in Geedo’s dungeon before the cavern came into focus again.

Darc forced the memories away. He couldn’t worry about any of this now. He had to find Droguza and the Water Stone.

His companions were waiting for him outside the cave where he had left them.

“Thanks for waiting,” he told them as he approached. “We’re going back to Drakyrnia!”

  
“What? Going back…?” Delma exclaimed. “You got the Dragon Master Crown?”

“I got it. Everything’s fine.

“I knew you could do it, Darc!”

“See? Just like I told you…” Volk said. “No need to worry so much.”

“Oh, shut your snout!” Delma snapped at the Lupine. “I wasn’t worried in the slightest! Now Williwo will tell us where Droguza’s hiding out!”

Darc touched his birthmark, sorrow falling like a shadow across his soul. “Yes, Williwo…”

“What is it, Darc?”

Darc hesitated. “He’s my…” He broke off and shook his head. “Ah, never mind...Let’s get back to Drakyrnia.”

 

~x~

 

Lilia gazed beyond the thick glass partition separating the small cabin from the Megist’s engine room. It seemed like ages since the Dilzweld soldiers had ordered her from her room with their rifles at her back and marched her through the stifling heat of the volcano. In those long hours, the airship had taken flight, landed, and taken flight again, though she had spent so many hours dozing restlessly that it could have flown thousands of miles without her notice. The guards who brought her meals did not speak to her, but this bothered her little; she knew that any of her questions as to their destination would go unanswered. And although her hollow stomach cramped with sharp hunger pains, she would not touch any of that which they gave her.

She sighed heavily and leaned against the windowsill with her chin in her hand, gazing absently at her tired, pale reflection in the glass.

_ Darc… _

She wondered where he might be at the moment. Often she recalled the private conversations they had shared, and though he had vehemently denied it, she could not help but ponder the uncanny evidence linking him with Kharg.

Heavy footsteps warned her of someone approaching in the corridor outside. She straightened up and settled her features into an impassive expression just before the metal-plated door slid open.

“I hear you haven’t eaten your dinner.”

Lilia ignored the cold voice, concealing her surprise that the emperor himself had paid a visit to her.

“You’ve got to take care of yourself, you know. You’re my most precious ace in the hole, after all.”

Lilia continued to stare defiantly out the window, forcing herself to focus calmly on the shadowy mechanical shapes in the engine room below, but Darkham’s words disturbed her greatly. She recalled Tatjana’s words shortly after her capture and a chill prickled up her spine. 

Darkham’s heavy boots moving in calculated steps toward her across the cabin floor. Lilia tensed.

“I’ve got good news for you,” he continued. “I have the Water Stone.”

Lilia gasped and lowered her gaze. Surely he could not have collected all of the stones so quickly…?

“The Fire Stone, the Water Stone…and your Light Stone,” Darkham said, his tone evenly measured. “Then there’s my Earth Stone. All that’s left...is the Wind Stone.” He came to stand beside her. “And with that Wind Stone...it’s really only a matter of time. When I have all the stones together, it’ll be your turn to shine.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Lilia exclaimed, much more bravely than she felt, and turned to the emperor at last.

“This is what you finally say after all that silence?” Darkham scoffed. 

Lilia pursed her lips and returned her gaze to the window.

“Here we go again…” the emperor sneered. He headed for the door. “Fine. I’ll make sure you gladly agree to cooperate with me. I’ve got just the thing. Something unquestionably effective.”

Lilia could no longer ignore his cryptic words. She looked over her shoulder, curious to know his meaning.

“Bring her in!”

The door slid open a second time. Lilia watched, horrified, as Nafia slowly entered the cabin with her head bowed, escorted by two armed soldiers.

“But…” Lilia gasped. “Why?!” 

The emperor chuckled darkly. “I told you, didn’t I? She’ll do wonders for making you cooperate. It seems you know each other.”

He laughed mirthlessly at the expression on her face before the door slammed shut behind him, leaving them alone in silence once more.

“Lady Nafia!” Lilia cried. She crossed the room in two strides and guided the other woman to the small, neatly made bed in the corner. “What happened?!”

Nafia sunk onto the edge of the mattress. Something had changed about her demeanor since the last time she had seen her, Lilia realized. She was quiet and sad, and some inconsolable despair seemed to weigh heavily on her shoulders.

“Oh, Lilia…” she sighed. “Kharg told me many times that it isn’t safe to wander alone. I should have listened.” She raised her dark eyes to meet Lilia’s gaze. “I guess I’m no longer the warrior I was when I was a young girl.”

Lilia watched her sadly. “I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault you’re in this mess. If I hadn’t stayed so long in Yewbell…”

“No, Lilia, it’s all right, dear,” Nafia reassured her kindly. Her lips curved into a tired smile. “I am very happy to have met you. Some things have become much clearer to me now.”

Lilia sat down on the cot across from her. “What sort of things?”

“Well, I certainly would never have known as much about Dilzweld’s plans,” Nafia began. “And I believe you’ve taught us all something about the spirits.”

“I suppose so…” Lilia frowned. “Has Kharg returned to Yewbell?”

Nafia returned her gaze to the floor. “No, I’m afraid he hasn’t…”

“I saw him just a few days ago,” Lilia explained. “He was trying to get the Fire Stone. I think he’s doing what he can to get in Darkham’s way.”

“Yes, that doesn’t surprise me,” Nafia said, and she smiled faintly again. “He is just like his father that way. I know that he is doing everything he can to protect this world.”

But…” Lilia continued, and her frown deepened. “Darkham got the Fire Stone eventually. And he says he has all the stones now except for the Wind Stone.”

Nafia’s eyebrows raised very slightly. “The Wind Stone?” she whispered.

Lilia watched quietly as her gaze slid out of focus. She seemed to be searching for something far beyond the four walls of the cabin, a pained expression bleeding onto her face.

“Lady Nafia…” Lilia began hesitantly. “May I ask you something?” 

“Of course, dear…”

“Did you ever have any other children? You know, besides Kharg?”

Nafia’s expression turned mournful. She was quiet for a long moment. Only the vibrational hum of the airship could be heard in the silence. 

“Yes…” she began softly. “Kharg is a twin. But he...my beautiful son...he passed away...many years ago...” She stopped speaking abruptly and cleared her throat. “I still think about him all the time.”

“Oh…” Lilia whispered, quite uncertain how else to respond. “I’m so sorry...”

Well, she thought sadly, now she could at least put her curiosity aside, for there was no way Darc could be Kharg’s twin. They looked nothing alike.

And yet…

Nafia’s gaze was troubled and downcast. It was an expression similar to the one Darc often wore. Lilia wasn’t privy to the details, but perhaps there had been some sort of misunderstanding. Hadn’t Darc told her that his mother was dead, too?

For a moment, Lilia wondered if she should mention his name.

But Nafia was dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief, and Lilia had not the heart to ask her anything more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely apologize it's taken me so long to update. I've been absolutely slammed at work these last several weeks. I also had to edit and revise this chapter quite a few times because it was getting way too long and I couldn't decide how to break up the scenes in a coherent manner. The good thing is that the next chapter is already half written because I had to move part of one scene to Chapter 12. So I'm hoping that I will be able to update a lot faster next time.
> 
> If you have played the game up to this point (which I'm assuming is pretty much all of you), then you know that the proverbial shit is about to hit the fan. I can also promise there will be some Darc/Lilia action very soon. And, of course, plenty of angst to go around. 
> 
> Thank you all again for your interest in this story. I really enjoy writing it despite the amount of extra time and effort it takes me to crank out these chapters. It is a true labor of love.


	12. Chapter 12

Darc was too lost in his troubled thoughts to entertain his companions’ curiosity about what exactly had transpired inside the cave as they traveled through the forest in silence. He could see Volk and Delma shooting sideways looks at him out of the corner of his eye, which did nothing to improve his mood.

“What?!” he finally snapped when they had reached the misty gates of Drakyrnia. 

“Oh, n-nothing!” Delma exclaimed, looking pointedly away.

“Pale concern. Deep blue melancholy. Darc’s soul is...mysterious…” Bebedora observed, her colorless face tilted toward his.

Darc fell once more into stony silence, the dragon spirit’s message still weighing heavily on his mind. He halted abruptly at the foot of the stairs.

“What is it?” Volk asked.

Darc turned to them.

“I’m gonna see Williwo alone.”

“Hmm? Why so serious all of a sudden?” Camellia rasped in her withered old voice. “What has gotten into you, Darc?”

“Amber sorrow,” Bebedora continued to study his soul aloud as if she were reading an open book. “Red-brown bewilderment.”

“This is my own affair,” Darc said firmly, glancing at each of his companions in turn. “It has nothing to do with you. I’m going alone.”

“Hey, don’t be so cold!” Delma exclaimed. “We’re going with you. We’re your friends, aren’t we?”

“Friends…?” Darc repeated, taken aback. “Listen to me carefully! I brought you along because I need you to help me unify the Deimos, that’s all. So this is none of your business.”

They stared up at him in confusion, but none of them were foolish enough to argue.

“Wait here!” he ordered. “Do as you please until I get back!”

His companions departed, casting uncertain glances in his direction until they disappeared into the silvery fog.

Darc peered up at the sheer cliff face to the doorway of the elder’s room. He heaved a frustrated sigh and raked his human hand through his hair. There were things he wanted to know, questions he wanted to ask Williwo, the answers to which he was certain only the old Deimos possessed. 

And yet…

He wasn’t entirely sure he really  _ did  _ want to know. All his life, his past had been a mystery to him, and until quite recently he had been fine with that. But ever since the Wind Spirit had first appeared to him that day in the Church Ruins, splattered in the blood of those who had tortured and betrayed him, it had become increasingly difficult to ignore. References to Windalf’s relationship with _...her... _ had cropped up time and again, to the point that  _ knowing  _ seemed unavoidable.

But if Williwo told him the truth, then maybe he could find the other half of the Wind Stone…

Darc walked slowly toward the equipment shop. He needed some time to collect his thoughts before he asked Williwo such a thing.

He was so distracted that he nearly ran into Bebedora on the worn path overlooking the snow-covered valley. 

“Rust-colored hesitation. Mica-colored troubled emotions. Anxiety, sinking into the color of ash.” She considered him for a moment longer, and the thin line of her mouth curved into a frown. “Darc...you’re scared. Scared of the truth.”  

Darc scowled. He would never admit it to anyone, but her observations were disturbingly accurate, as usual. He shook his head. He was wasting time. The longer he put off his discussion with Williwo, the more difficult it would be to track down Droguza and the Water Stone.

 

~x~

 

Sagan was waiting for him at the door of the elder’s chamber. The old Deimos hobbled forward to greet him, relief washing over his withered features.

“Oh, Darc! Did you pass the Dragon Ordeal?”

“Of course.”

“Oho! That’s our Darc!” Sagan chuckled fondly, unperturbed by his demeanor. “Now go tell Williwo. Hurry!”

The elder slowly got to his feet, wheezing, as he approached.

“Have you brought the Dragon Master Crown?” he asked, sounding slightly out of breath.

Darc produced the silver circlet from his sash. Williwo made no effort to conceal his surprise.

“...That’s the crown, all right,” he said, almost sounding disappointed.

“Now it’s time for you to keep your promise,” Darc growled. “Why don’t you tell me where Droguza is?”

“All right…” the elder reluctantly agreed. “He ought to be around Thunor Point. The Dilzweld humans had a base camp there. Disgusting though it is, Droguza and his underlings are in cahoots with the humans, you see.”

“So...Droguza is working with the Dilzweld army?” Darc gripped his birthmark. “He really is a dirty Deimos.”

How could a strong Deimos like Droguza bow to those filthy humans? Yet it all made sense now. The Drakyr had attacked him in the Church Ruins and stole the Water Stone from him in Rueloon for the same reason the Dilzweld Amy were after Lilia’s Light Stone.

Williwo’s fitful coughing drew his attention.

“...Are you sick?” Darc asked, the rough edges of his voice softening ever so slightly.

“I...I don’t have much longer,” the elder said. “Just like Drakyrnia.”

Darc gripped his birthmark again tightly. This Deimos - his father’s father - might very well be the only one who could ever tell him the truth about his origins.

It was now or never.

“Williwo...I have something to ask you.”

“Hmm? Ask away.”

“Can you tell me about…” Darc hesitated, steeling his resolve. “About my father’s past?”

Williwo heaved a heavy sigh, and the contempt his eyes had thus held ebbed slowly away, only to be replaced by an emotion Darc could not quite identify.

“I had a feeling you would want to know about that…” the elder began. “He was a young leader who had the respect and trust of every Drakyr alive. But...he changed when he met a human woman, Nafia.”

Darc’s insides twisted with unease. He had heard that name before somewhere…

“He broke Deimos law and had you,” Williwo continued bluntly. “I banished him from the tribe…” At the expression marring Darc’s face, he quickly added, “It had to be done. Such a crime couldn’t be overlooked, after all. At that point, he stole our Wind Stone, the treasure of the Drakyr tribe. I had to send someone after him...I simply had no choice. Can you understand how I felt? This was my son! Oh, what hope I had for him! My son, who surrendered the throne of the Drakyr leadership! He turned his back on everything.”

Darc frowned deeply. Despite how Williwo felt, he could not bring himself to agree with him. His father had died because of this…

And he, Darc, had languished for years in slavery…

Williwo was watching him closely, and this time it was the elder’s turn to appear uneasy. There must have been something in his expression, Darc thought, his human soul betraying his innermost feelings again, but before he could so much as think of anything else to say, his lips formed a single word.

“Nafia?”

“She was a human girl who lived on this continent. Nafia wanted the Wind Stone and seduced Windalf...She was the one who approached him!” Williwo exclaimed. “She started it! This is a fact! But when the pursuers I sent after my son cornered that human girl...she...she fell off a cliff...along with her baby…and died.”

Darc’s mouth had suddenly become very dry. Something was happening in his mind, like a yarn unraveling which he had so diligently and carefully kept taught all these years. But now that it had started, he could not make it stop, all the loose ends fraying as they came undone.

“Baby?” 

“The human woman had given birth to twins,” Williwo explained. “Darc and Kharg...you are one brother of a set of twins. But...he’s...they’re all dead now. Nafia, your brother Kharg, Windalf...everybody’s gone.”

The elder gazed at him through his tired old eyes, and Darc could just discern a note of remorse in his tone.

“The only one left...is you.”

Darc stared at him in stunned silence. Only the wind howling around the crevices beyond the doorway could be heard inside the stone chamber. 

“Darc...I’m proud of you,” Williwo said, and for the very first time, his voice softened. “For Windalf’s son to have grown up so strong and healthy and to have returned to Drakyrnia...Now I have no regrets.”

Darc felt as if he had become temporarily mute, like his mouth had forgotten how to form words. A numbness was creeping into his mind, thick static that drowned out all conscious thought. He rubbed his human hand once over his face, staring at the intricate patterns in the carpet beneath his feet, before he turned without another word toward the exit. Sagan hobbled forward, appearing for a moment as if he wished to say something to him - a word of consolation, maybe - but Darc ignored him, stepping into the pale sunlight alone.

The fog beyond the valley was lifting. He gazed toward the horizon.

“So I...I had a brother…a twin…” His throat tightened uncomfortably. “If he were alive...he would have gone through the same trials, thought the same thoughts, felt the same pain as I have…but...he’s...dead…so in the end, I’m still just the same lone Deimos wannabe after all?!”

Fate was a cruel thing, his experiences had made him absolutely certain of that. But his soul felt like it was being crushed under the weight of a thousand of bricks, his loneliness slamming into his chest in an entirely new way, as if he were recognizing the true extent of his solitude all over again. He would never belong anywhere, forever stuck between two worlds which had no hope of ever living together in peace. No matter where he would go in this life, he would always be shunned for being _the_ _other._

A universal outcast.

His companions would all betray or abandon him eventually. He had already prepared himself for that. When this quest was over, they were sure to go their separate ways. They only followed him because he was strong. Sticking by him offered them protection, and only as long as they kept up the charade would they avoid becoming his enemies. There was no point in allowing himself to grow close to them, for one day they would use his trust against him like a weapon. He was sure of it.

Darc touched the shape of Lilia’s ortena in his sash. Only  _ she  _ had been willing to ignore his differences.

Still...it’s not like she could even begin to understand him. But if his twin were alive…   


“Wait! It’s coming back to me…” he muttered aloud as he strained his memory. “Didn’t Lilia say something about having met a human named Kharg? And his mother’s name was Nafia…”  

A feeling somewhere between nausea and excitement clawed its way into his stomach. His fingers fled absently to his birthmark.

“Is that just a coincidence? Or is it…” He shook his head. This was ridiculous. “Sheesh! What am I thinking! How could I be reeled in by a story like that? That was something...something silly Lilia made up! Of course...that’s all it is.”

But even as he slowly descended the steps, he could not banish the thoughts from his mind. 

He found his companions gathered near the waterfall at the base of the cliff.

“Hello again,” he greeted them as he approached, trying to appear as normal as possible. 

“Well? Did you find out about Droguza?” Delma asked moodily, still sounding annoyed that he hadn’t allowed them to accompany him.

“He’s at the Dilzweld base at Thunor Point, it seems.”

“Why?!” Volk exclaimed. “Why would Droguza be at a Dilzweld base?”

“Williwo says he’s working with the humans.”

“I don’t like the sound of that…” the Lupine growled.

“Droguza, human - they’re all the same to me!” Delma scoffed, stamping her foot impatiently. “Let’s smash ‘em all and get that Water Stone!”

Without even waiting for the others, she turned right around and marched off in the direction of the gates.

“Somehow that Orcon girl’s enthusiasm seems to be catching,” Camellia added, following her. Bebedora skipped after them, her skirt flouncing in the wind.

“By the way…” Volk began as he and Darc trailed at a more leisurely pace, content to allow them to lead the way for once. “Are you done with your own matter of revenge?” 

His leader lowered his gaze to the worn flagstone path. “Oh, that...yes, more or less.”

“...Darc? You may not like to hear this, but…” Volk hesitated for a moment, as if he were carefully choosing the right words. “I feel the same as Delma. I consider myself to have your same goals, to be your ally. And maybe even your friend.”

Darc did not answer him, too wary of what the Lupine might think if he expressed his gratitude, but he could feel a small, insistent tug at the corners of his lips as they marched together in silence.

 

~x~

 

It was only a short trek through the forest beyond Drakyrnia when they caught a glimpse of the humans.

“Look, there they are!” Delma hissed.

“This isn’t Thunor Point, though,” Volk said, glancing over at Darc. “It’s the Vayu Dam Ruins.”

“What do you think they’re doing here?” Darc wondered aloud.

They remained hidden in the shadows at the edge of the trees, observing the enemy. Through the thick foliage, Darc could see Drakyr among them. His blood came to a furious boil.

“Wh-what is all this?” Camellia rasped. “Deimos and humans…they’re working together to form a blockade.”

“Those aren’t Deimos,” Volk growled. “Those are despicable, low-down beasts!”

“It’s just as Williwo said,” Darc spat. “What the hell are they doing?”

Delma turned to him. “What now?”

“We’ll crush those humans and any Deimos low enough to work with them!”

Darc crashed through the underbrush, weapon in hand, his companions close on his heels. They dispatched their enemies quickly, leaving none alive but a single Drakyr who crouched, bleeding heavily, on the ground.

“Why would you ally with humans?” Darc spat at the Deimos crumpled before him. “Are you Deimos, or are you dirt?!”

“Shut up! Son of a traitor!”

“No, joining up with humans makes you a traitor! Don’t you have any pride as a Deimos...as a Drakyr?!”

“It’s because we have pride...that we followed Droguza…” the Drakyr gasped. “To bring prosperity back...to Drakyrnia...to the Drakyr…” 

He choked, clutching his abdomen, and collapsed at Darc’s feet.

“Damn you Droguza…” Darc muttered, gripping his birthmark. “What do you have up your sleeve?”

“Hey, not bad, not bad,” Delma said, looking up as a shout echoed toward them across the clearing. A dozen Dilzweld soldiers emerged from the trees a moment later. “With this many humans around...I’m just itching to fight!”

Like the troops before them, the soldiers fell quickly to their magic and brute force. Darc sheathed his sword, wasting no time as he called over his shoulder.

“Come on! Droguza is up ahead!”

 

~x~

 

Darc knew when they had finally reached Dilzweld’s base by the amount of human garbage that littered both sides of the dirt path leading out of the boreal forest. He scowled, disgusted at the many barrels, crates, and metal barricades, artifacts of human civilization, keeping his hand on the hilt of his sword in case of an ambush.

He halted in his tracks at the top of the slope. High above them, hovering at the edge of a cliff, was the massive floating ship he had encountered nearly a fortnight ago in the Varam Barrens.

The same ship which had taken Lilia away…

A cold, familiar laugh beckoned his attention. Darc’s hand tightened instinctively on his sword hilt.

“Droguza! We’ve finally caught up with you!”

“Well, I salute you for making it this far…” the Deimos said, sounding not the least bit concerned at their arrival. “But this is the end of the line!”

“You took the words right out of my mouth!” Darc spat. 

Droguza remained where he stood near the ramp to the airship, flanked by half a dozen armed soldiers. “Just so you know...I’m not who I was before. I’m in possession...of a new power!”

Darc sneered at his cryptic words. “Enough posturing, Droguza! We’ll see about this new power of yours soon enough!”

Droguza smiled ominously and sauntered forward. Darc heard his companions go for their weapons in unison behind him. 

“Watch your back!” he warned them. “Droguza’s bragging about some new power he got. We’d better be careful around him!”

“He’s bluffing!” Volk growled as he raised his axe in a battle stance. “What could he have managed to do in such a short time?!”

“But still…”

“Let’s get him to show us this new, amazing power of his!”

Droguza lunged. Darc could tell immediately that he had grown much faster. His first attack was swift, catching them all off guard as his long, steel-plated claws grazed Delma’s shoulder.

“Damnit!” she exclaimed, dodging out of the way at the last second. 

Darc barked his orders to them as they fanned out, Camellia’s healing magic sparkling in his periphery. Bebedora quickly gained control over two of the Dilzweld soldiers, the others falling quickly the Volk’s blade.

A massive, crushing weight suddenly slammed into Darc’s chest before he could so much as utter an incantation. The world around him turned murky and black as he felt his life energy being drawn out of him, rendering him temporarily immobile. When the all-consuming darkness cleared, he saw Droguza standing before him.

“I never thought the bunch of you would get past the guards at Vayu Dam! Still, I guess if you managed to do away with them, those Drakyr and the humans were pretty useless anyway.”

“You used them, and now you put them down!” Darc snarled at his adversary. “Don’t you feel anything for the Drakyr that died because they believed in you?!”

Droguza chuckled darkly. “I just showed them a dream, a sweet dream. Isn’t that what you’re doing?” His beady eyes swept over Darc’s companions as they approached with weapons raised. “You’re using those Deimos, too.”

“What?!” Darc gasped, disturbed by Droguza’s words.

“You’re just like me!” the hybrid Deimos continued. “So I understand exactly what you’re thinking. You don’t trust anybody. The only thing you believe in is your own strength! That’s why you’re after the infinite power!”

“You’re wrong!” Darc spat. “I...I’m going to save the Deimos!” 

He swung his sword in anger, hating the truth that echoed in his enemy’s words. Droguza met him hand-to-hand, the clash of iron on steel ringing eerily in the otherwise silent clearing. Darc heard his companions shouting, and a burst of flames engulfed the Deimos momentarily before him. Seizing the opportunity, he slashed repeatedly at Droguza’s smoldering flesh, the heat from Delma’s firestorm singeing the human skin of his sword arm. A rush of ice followed, bringing Droguza to his knees.

“Guess that new power of yours wasn’t much after all.”

Droguza groaned. “Not yet...I’m not dead yet…”

“Cut the dramatics!” Darc snapped. “You have a lot of explaining to do. Why did you stir up the Drakyr?!”

“What a pointless question…” Droguza said. “The Drakyr were merely pawns in my search for the Great Spirit Stones. After they lost the Wind Stone, they lost all reason to go on living...and I gave them a reason, that’s all. Gather all the stones and we could make the Drakyr thrive once more. Actually, you should be thanking me.”

Darc listened carefully. His story did not contradict Williwo’s summary of events in the wake of his father’s departure from Drakyrnia.

“Then what’s in it for you?” Darc growled. “Gathering all the stones and transforming into the Ultimate Deimos?”

Droguza chuckled mirthlessly. “So you know the secret of the Great Spirit Stones. I see…”

“If you wanna be the Ultimate Deimos, why would you ever even consider teaming up with humans?!”

Droguza lowered his eyes to the earthen floor but did not offer a reply. 

“Fine, then. Don’t tell me!” Darc snapped. “This is where you die, anyway!” He raised his sword once more.

“So you don’t care about the Water Stone?” Droguza asked calmly. “Don’t you want it back?”

“I only have to kill you first!”

Droguza laughed. “I have some bad news. The Water Stone isn’t here.”

“What?!”

“It’s safe with my master. With Emporer Darkham of Dilzweld…”

“You fool!” Darc spat furiously. “Not only have you joined forces with humans, but now you’re taking orders from them?”

“Say what you like…” Droguza said, appearing suddenly quite somber. “But I’ve chosen the right path toward my goal…”

Shouts erupted behind them as more Dilzweld soldiers burst into the clearing. Darc spun around with his sword raised, temporarily distracted by the commotion. A gust of wind and the heavy beating of wings told him it was all Droguza needed to escape.

_ Damn it all… _ Darc thought bitterly. What was he to do now? If the Water Stone was indeed in the Dilzweld emperor’s possession, he would have to think of a plan - and fast. He sure as hell wasn’t going to leave here empty-handed. Not after he’d come this far. Not after everything he’d been through since he’d stepped foot on this godforsaken continent…

“Those damn humans just keep on coming!” He stepped forward, brandishing his weapon.

Volk turned to him. “Wait, Darc! Now’s your chance, when our enemies are few.”

“Leave the humans to us,” Delma said. “We’ll split up and distract them. That’s when you grab the Water Stone from Darkham!”

Darc hesitated. He was their leader. He couldn’t leave them, especially not in battle. Not at a time when they needed him most.

“But…”

“Darc, hurry!” Delma called over her shoulder as she moved toward the advancing soldiers.

“All right,” he agreed. “You’d better all stay alive, got it!”

“Just leave it to us,” Camellia reassured him..

“We’ll rendez-vous in Drakyrnia,” Darc gave his finally command. Then he departed, sprinting toward the airship, hoping he hadn’t just made a decision he would later regret.

 

~x~

 

He was surprised to find the nearest door to the airship was unlocked. Heart hammering, he rested for a moment in the shadows near some crates and observed his surroundings. The room was lit by a dim, greenish hue, apparently some sort of cargo holding area, and he considered himself fortunate to be alone. Sneaking past humans was something he wanted to avoid at all costs, for if he encountered any soldiers before he reached the emperor, he would have a tough job ahead of him. If his presence were discovered here, the Water Stone would be the least of his concerns.

He crept forward, keeping close to the steel-plated wall, and emerged into what he could only guess was the main part of the airship. Here, too, the lighting was a dusty grey-green, the naked fluorescent bulbs flickering eerily in the empty silence. There were bare pipes and machinery to his left and to his right, the manmade skeletal workings of the airship itself.

Darc slowed to a halt once more. The Water Stone, he thought with grim realization, could be anywhere. He was likely to find the emperor in a captain’s chamber somewhere, that much he knew. But how to reach him…?

A door slid open at the end of the hall. Darc immediately dove behind the nearest object.

“Everything all right?” A voice echoed in the silence.

“Yeah...It looks like she’s completely give up…” a second voice answered. “And given in. They sure are beautiful, aren’t they?”

“I don’t think either one of them is right for you, actually…”

“That’s not what I mean! Lilia has this mysterious aura that’s somehow comforting. And Nafia’s gorgeous in her own way, too!”

Every inch of Darc’s skin prickled as if he’d just received an electrical shock.  _ Lilia…? _

“Well, whatever…” the other soldier continued. “They’ll be killed when this is all over, anyway.”

“What a waste!”

Their footsteps receded down the hallway and then abruptly halted. 

“Hey, did you enter the password?”

“Oops...forgot!”

A heavy door slid open.

“Sheesh! If you weren’t so fixated on the ladies…”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry!”

The door slid closed again. There was a whirring noise, and then silence once more.

Darc hadn’t realized that he’d been holding his breath. He exhaled shakily, and when he peered around the corner, his pulse began to race from something more than just a close shave with the human guards.

“Lilia…?”

Her name formed on his lips like a prayer. Forgetting the Water Stone and everything else at the moment, he took a few steps forward, casting a long look down the dimly lit corridor.

“Could Lilia be in there?”

_ But why?  _ He remained where he stood, contemplating his next course of action. His human hand traced the smooth surface of Lilia’s ortena in his sash, and he had the most peculiar feeling that fate had guided him there.

All this time, he had assumed - or perhaps hoped - that she had been killed, if nothing more than to free him from the ridiculous human infatuation he’d somehow fallen victim to ever since he awoke to her clear, concerned gaze in Asheeda Forest with her bandages around his wound. 

Yet the very thought of such a thing happening to her crushed and mangled his heart like an iron fist.

“And they said... _ Nafia, _ too…” He gripped his birthmark. “Don’t tell me…could it really be the one Williwo was talking about? Could it really be...my mother?”

None of this made any sense...why would Dilzweld care about  _ her? _ It was the stones they wanted. Unless…

Darc’s thumb smoothed over the glassy surface of the Wind Stone in his pocket.

He was wasting precious time. His mind told him distantly that he needed to find Darkham, but his steps gravitated toward the door at the end of the hall from where the soldiers had emerged as if by some invisible force. He reached out his human hand to rest against the cold metal.

_ Locked. _

Darc shook his head. “What the hell am I thinking?” His claw moved to grip at his birthmark again, lingering there. “Why should I be concerned about humans at a time like this…?”

But he knew, as much as he was loathe to admit it, that he had arrived at a crossroads. He could forget about her, he could walk away, and she would be destroyed. His fingers touched her carved instrument once more.

Darc gazed about him. There were certainly no keys, nor anything with which he could break into the chamber nearby. A thick pipe ran from ceiling to floor close to where he stood. He followed its path, noticing a ledge just wide enough to stand on, and there - a vent above the door.

"Lilia...I do owe her one..." he reasoned.

Years of laboring for Geedo had, if nothing else, given him the strength needed to haul himself hand over claw up the pipe. He could just imagine what an easy target he would be for an armed soldier with his back exposed as he dangled from the rafters, bracing his feet against the wall to climb the rest of the way onto the ledge. Flattening himself to the wall, he shimmied over to the vent, and a moment later he crawled into the dusty air shaft.

Female voices, unintelligible from his position, floated up from below. But one of them, familiar in its soft cadence, was undeniable to him, and his human hand trembled as he jiggled the metal vent before it swung open, creaking slightly on its hinges.

It was a small cabin, enough for two occupants. Darc looked down from his perch in the shadows, and his insides twisted not unpleasantly with a most peculiar feeling. 

_ Lilia… _

He could not see her face, but as he gazed upon her, peace such as he had never felt before washed over him like an ocean wave. He remained very still, simply admiring her lovely form, relieved to find that she was alive and unharmed. 

And he realized quite suddenly then how well and truly frightened he had been, from the very moment he had discovered her missing from Orcoth, that he would never see her again.

“Everything and everyone...ruined…” she was saying. “Because of me.”

“Lilia...you musn’t be so hard on yourself.”

Dark shifted his gaze to the other woman. Her voice was calm and gentle. Like Lilia’s in a way, but deeper and not quite so melodic in its inflection. 

“I know I’m actually pretty relieved,” she continued. “Now that I know you’re all right.”

Lilia turned toward the other woman. Darc could see her face now, her gentle expression and all of her pretty features, and his heart melted just a little. The familiar warmth in his chest stirred and he shifted impulsively, wanting to take her in his arms and whisk her safely away from this place.

“If only I hadn’t stopped that day in Yewbell…”

The other woman shook her head. “The people of Yewbell were so happy while you were there with them. They said your smiling face lifted their spirits. Now, is that the kind of person who could ruin everything?"

Lilia sighed, but her eyes softened at the woman’s kindness. “Lady Nafia…”

Darc strained his memory, trying to remember. But even from this distance he could see the resemblance in her face. The color and shape of her eyes, the set of her cheekbones, were all too familiar. For he had seen them in his own reflection so many times before.

“That woman...is Nafia?” he breathed. “My...my mother…?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I know, this chapter is quite a bit longer, but I couldn't stop writing. I felt bad for making you all wait last time so I wanted to update again pronto. As always, I really appreciate your continued interest in this story. Thank you all for reading and for your comments and reviews. They are always greatly appreciated.


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